Wu Shanshan had unconsciously stopped playing and was already staring dumbstruck.
And she was far from the only one. Everyone had thought the big oaf was doomed for charging against the tide, waiting to see his overconfidence destroy him. Instead, his blade rose and fell, and Black Tiger proved utterly powerless to resist, cut open in an instant amid sprays of blood.
How was that possible? Why had those three Magical Treasures, manifested like Gods and Devils, neither stopped him nor come to the rescue?
The Bright Mountain Sect group, who had been about to move, also thought their eyes were deceiving them. They were stunned.
Wu Jinliang had put everything into that slash. He watched it all happen, yet remained caught in a dreamlike frenzy of fury and exertion. Only when the hot blood sprayed into his eyes did he suddenly come back to himself.
He had originally sought to forget himself. Even if he were killed, it would be over in an instant, and he would feel little pain.
The sensation of that blade cleaving solidly into flesh and blood also jolted him awake.
I got him? It still felt like a dream. Afraid it was a dream, afraid something might change, he worried that Black Tiger's demonic body possessed some life-concealing art-that despite looking human, he had not placed his vital organs where they appeared to be when undergoing transformation.
So the blade that had struck the ground swept sideways along it, carving out a bright, distinct trail of sparks. Chasing Black Tiger's torn body as the fierce wind swept it up, he sent another slash howling after it, once again putting every ounce of strength into the blow.
As he twisted around, a soft "pff" still echoed beside his ear. It sounded as though someone behind