The battle on the Stone Terrace dazzled the eyes. Sword Qi traced luminous white strokes through blood-red, gray-black, and iridescent colors, all churning and colliding beneath the moonlight.
The red was Red Clothes, savage and reckless, heedless of the consequences. The swirling, elusive rainbow hues were Xiao Yu, moving too fast for anyone to follow her path.
The chaotic gray-black belonged to the Ghost King and its Ghost Generals. They were numerous, their auras impure and mixed, their gray-black ghostly shadows moving without any order, plainly unable to keep pace with the white and rainbow hues.
Black Snake's understanding of perfect roundness deepened, its sword moves flowing without end.
There were no earth-shaking spectacles in this battle, only speed and greater speed.
Black Snake darted and wove through the fray. Every swing of its sword, trailing white mist, left a wound on the powerful ghosts' soul bodies.
Neither deep nor long, not even enough to make them scream, yet the wounds kept accumulating, one after another.
The powerful ghosts began to grow anxious.
They could feel their soul bodies weakening bit by bit, slowly and steadily being gnawed away.
The tide of battle gradually tilted toward Black Snake.
There was no earth-shaking killing move. Instead, it patiently built its chances of victory with sword strike after sword strike, wound after wound.
The Ghost King and its subordinates also sensed the danger and grew desperate to reverse their disadvantage.
The cultivators stood on the Mountain Gate steps, aching to help, but unable to keep up with the battle's speed.
The figures wheeling and colliding beneath the moonlight moved too fast to make out, let alone intervene. Besides, the cultivators were already wounded. Fortunately, a Demon Bird and a Vengeful Ghost were helping; they knew these were allies the expert had brought.