That was why Pei Ye had settled on this spot. Why, then, when he truly drove his sword into it, did it feel as though he had been toyed with?
Yet the Divine Child's golden eyes remained impassive, without a trace of mockery.
Pei Ye had no time to consider why. Having committed all his strength to that final thrust, his body now had no room to maneuver. Help was still blocked behind him, and after failing to devour his mind, a flood-dragon silhouette came howling from behind and slammed into the boy's back.
The cracking of bones sounded like a fist crushing a handful of wheat straw. The boy fell like a torn sack, and within two breaths, dark red blood had pooled beneath him.
First constricted, then forcing himself to use Snow-Collapsing, his body had already been badly wounded. The Divine Child's final blow had held nothing back, either. For a Fifth Growth cultivator, these were injuries that brought him to death's door.
Pei Ye lay sprawled on the ground, gasping, struggling to seal his bleeding wounds with what True Qi he had left. But his body had all but burst beneath that blow, and there were already more wounds than True Qi.
That was how a battle against a stronger foe went. He had to expend everything merely to place his wager, but whether the dice beneath the cup came up high or low was beyond his control.
Once he bet wrong, there would be no second chance.
Pei Ye had already fought many battles with his life hanging by a thread, and he had won every one. Now, for the first time, the consequences of losing bared their true fangs at him-he, Pei Ye, had never had one more life than anyone else.
Glaze struggled desperately