Cui Zhixia hung in midair, his fierce Sword Qi enveloping Fan Dazhi like a chrysanthemum blooming in fury. Rage had stormed his heart, sweeping away his usual composure and calm.
Before all those watching eyes, his opponent had actually grabbed a fart and stuffed it into his mouth. This was an unspeakable humiliation. If he could tolerate this, what could he not tolerate?
At that moment, Cui Zhixia had only one thought: he had to take this damned fatty's life to wash away the disgrace he had inflicted on him.
Sword Qi pierced the heavens, mingled with violent true qi, and poured down.
Sensing danger, Fan Dazhi turned to flee, only to find four black talisman lines already blocking every avenue of escape-front, back, left, and right.
With no other choice, he did something that took everyone by surprise: he covered his head with both hands and dropped into a crouch.
Countless strands of Sword Qi slashed across Fan Dazhi's back, their terrifying energy plowing several deep furrows into the hard ground.
Amid the flying dirt, countless tears opened in the clothes on Fan Dazhi's back. Yet his exposed skin gleamed with a strange luster, without so much as a mark.
How was that possible?
Cui Zhixia screamed inwardly in disbelief. The corners of his eyes twitched as he poured true qi madly into his sword's hilt and slashed out another black talisman line, merging it with the previous four.
The black talisman lines rose, as though a black flood dragon were taking flight. Cui Zhixia flicked his sword tip, as if dotting the dragon's eyes, and the sword talisman he had drawn sprang into being.
With an explosive boom, a plume of black smoke surged forward like a flood dragon. Countless black bats seemed to be charging wildly within