The wind howled past Yang Ge's ears.
Looking down from sixty or seventy yards in the air, the white-haired old man was actually as tiny as an ant.
But in Yang Ge's eyes, the old man towered like a mighty mountain, so imposing that he inspired a helpless sense of facing a peak beyond reach, one that even birds could not cross!
And that was the truth. He had just chased that old turtle and hacked at him more than a hundred times, putting everything he had into every stroke, without so much as nicking a hair.
Yet it was precisely that helplessness-gritting his teeth and wringing out every last drop of strength, only to accomplish nothing-that kicked Yang Ge, who had already backed himself into a corner, straight into a dead end!
At that moment, hundreds upon thousands of fierce or dark thoughts plainly rose and sank in his mind: life and death, victory and defeat, honor and disgrace, gain and loss...
But his heart was utterly empty. Only one thought shone there with boundless light: Split that mountain. Smash his turtle shell!
He had not even noticed that he had staked everything on the strongest move in his arsenal, one he had not used in a very long time!
That torn state of emotion, at once hysterical and inexplicably calm, could perhaps be called: no life without madness!
On the ground...
The white-haired old man likewise cast aside his distracting thoughts in an instant, bringing both his mind and his condition to their peak. Then, beneath the mounting pressure of Yang Ge's aura, he calmly formed a sword seal and roared in a full, powerful voice, "Heavenly Cycle Qi flows vast and free, my Way flourishes day by day... No Demons Under Heaven!"
He abruptly pointed his sword