Spirit Connection Realm

A tightness struck Tang Wulin's chest, and that sword thrust drove him back several steps.

Yet as he retreated, his mind grew clearer instead.

Wu Changkong's thrust had not simply knocked him back. It had driven his entire being into a state of extraordinary sensitivity. The dull ache in his chest remained, and his arms were somewhat numb, but his gaze never wavered. Instead, it stayed locked on Wu Changkong.

He knew perfectly well that if he let that backward step carry him farther away, his rhythm would break completely.

So he did not keep retreating.

His right hand sank, steadying the Star-Sinking Hammer again. At the very instant he recovered his stance, his left wrist flipped sharply. Borrowing the lingering force of the recoil, he forcibly twisted himself back around.

This was not a brute-force smash.

He was seizing that sliver of an opening.

Wu Changkong had just driven him back with a thrust. His sword's momentum was strong, and he was pressing forward, but his strike had not yet fully settled. Tang Wulin's perception was strangely altered. The person before him no longer seemed merely his teacher, but a piece of metal he was observing, assessing, and searching for grain.

Where it was hardest, where the hammer should fall, where he must not touch, where arriving a fraction earlier would let him slip in—all of it became far clearer than usual beneath that almost ethereal concentration.

He stamped forward and suddenly swung the Star-Sinking Hammer in his left hand.

The swing was small, but exceptionally fast.

A flicker of surprise crossed Wu Changkong's eyes. Almost instinctively, he raised his wooden sword across his body and struck at the hammer from the side.

Clang!

With a crisp ring, the wooden sword collided fiercely with the Star-Sinking Hammer.

This time,