More than half of Hidan's strength lay in his jujutsu, Death Controlling Possessed Blood.
But the problem now was that he could not get close to his enemy at all.
Without getting close, he could not hurt his enemy.
Without hurting his enemy, he could not get any blood.
And without blood, naturally, he could not perform the ritual.
He had finally seen through his enemy's weakness, only to have no chance to exploit it.
Forget accepting defeat gracefully-Hidan was about to explode with rage!
Timing, terrain, support-he had none of them, while his opponent had them all. Motherfucker!
"Sand Curse Transformation: Sandstorm Dance!"
After the third barrage of sand blades filled the sky, Hidan was practically drenched in blood.
But his eyes alone remained unchanged, filled with all the evil in the world as they stared fixedly at Saibote.
It seemed that given a chance, even if all he had left was a mouth, he would bite something off him.
"I've already slowed the rate at which the quicksand sinks. Before you're swallowed whole, I'll have enough time to unleash ten rounds of Sandstorm Dance. I'm very curious how many more rounds you can withstand."
Hidan grinned savagely through his bloodied face. "How many rounds? This stuff feels so good I'm about to fall asleep!"
As a masochist, this sort of physical torment was practically everything he could ask for!
The only irritating part was that he could not let his opponent experience the pleasure of this pain as well.
After these rounds of Sandstorm Dance, Saibote also seemed to notice that this method did not seem capable of making his opponent submit.
Then should he simply finish off this human, or...
As though something had occurred to him, Saibote suddenly turned his gaze behind Hidan.
"I've heard a