The screen suddenly shattered.
Sword light streaked like a rainbow, stabbing straight at Han Zhan's throat.
But the tip had barely advanced three inches before it could go no farther.
A hand as broad as a palm-leaf fan had already pressed against the blade. Its edge was like a knife, its force like a mountain. With that seemingly casual parry, He An felt a mountain-toppling, sea-churning force surge through his sword. The web of his hand shook violently, and the weapon nearly flew from his grasp.
Then Han Zhan closed in and drove his shoulder forward.
"Mountain-Leaning Shoulder!"
The simplest move, the most tyrannical killing intent.
Pain exploded in He An's chest, as though a flying mountain had struck him. Like a kite with its string severed, he hurtled into the wall behind him.
Boom!
The entire Quiet Chamber trembled. Dust showered from the rafters as He An struck the wall and crashed heavily to the floor, smashing the low table behind him and scattering shards of cups everywhere.
This was the most direct form of overwhelming superiority in cultivation.
Between the peak of the Dao Integration Realm and the True Self Realm lay a chasm as vast as a heavenly moat, one that sheer desperation could never bridge.
Several of He An's ribs had broken, and his chest hurt as though it were splitting apart. Han Zhan's Mystic Ice True Qi was savagely eating through his meridians, its sinister chill threatening to freeze his organs into blocks of ice.
He braced one palm against the floor and clenched his teeth. A coppery sweetness rose in his throat, but he forced himself not to spit blood.
"Ah!"
The maid Green Sepal's scream pierced the night.
He An paid it no heed. He rolled over and propped himself up with one