Ning Xiong's body fell backward.
The iron spear he had just seized from the Nine Evil Sect enemy slipped from his hand and struck the thick layer of dead leaves with a dull thud.
Yi Yang stood five paces away, Mysterious Abyss in hand, and witnessed it all.
His mental power clearly detected that the vital vessels in Ning Xiong's chest had been pierced in a single strike. His presence was rapidly fading. That saber thrust had been far too clean and decisive, as though his opponent had anticipated Ning Xiong's every move and prepared everything well in advance.
Yi Yang had no time to save him.
Or rather, that gravely wounded Incense Master of the Nine Evil Sect had never given anyone a chance to save him in the first place.
Ning Xiong's final words, broken and hoarse, mingled with bloody froth and endless bewilderment, still lingered in the cool night wind.
"Ding Xiang... Eldest Brother...?"
Yi Yang's gaze moved from Ning Xiong's gradually dimming eyes to the clean puncture wound through his chest.
He had used a long saber, but followed a spear's path.
A straight thrust, a release of force, a piercing strike.
His shoulder and elbow had remained still as he struck. Only in the final half-foot had he delivered the strength of his waist and hips. It came from the same school as Ning Xiong's "Blood-Piercing Rainbow Spear," but his mastery stood several levels higher.
Yi Yang tightened his grip on Mysterious Abyss. All the scattered clues in his mind fell into place at that moment.
He did not rush to attack. He simply looked at that hideous bronze Demon Mask and asked calmly:
"Should I call you Blood Trace?"
"Or should I address you as Commander Ding?"
Blood Trace-or rather, the former Commander, Ding