With a killing strike upon him, Lian Youming's face paled a little.
This Snake Leads the Crane was likely a killing move his opponent had honed for years: crane attacks in Snake Form, snake attacks with crane hands, hardness and softness working together, separation and convergence, feints and substance, endless variations both overt and concealed.
And he happened to be in the lake, his movements hampered. Once his opponent closed in, the snake would coil and the crane would peck-a situation of utmost danger.
But his alarm lasted only an instant, an exceedingly brief one, before giving way to an indescribable delight.
If he had to give a reason, it was the thrill of seeing worthy prey, the joy of meeting an opponent.
Most people might recoil from such a perilous, vicious fight, but Lian Youming absolutely would not. Only by witnessing fighting methods he had never seen and experiencing new ideas between life and death could he create something from nothing and perfect himself.
How formidable.
Lian Youming suddenly understood a little of why Xue Hen had spared him back then.
Everyone followed a different path, and that man yearned to see something different. He yearned for it desperately, so obsessed with martial arts that the thought nearly drove him mad, unwilling to abandon even the slightest chance.
As these thoughts shifted, the killing strike behind Lian Youming rose into the air. The Snake Form hand swept up a strange rustling sound as it struck straight at the vertebrae behind his neck.
As Inner Strength erupted, blood surged through Zhao Yunzhong's right hand. The wound from their earlier clash of fists kept gushing blood, but none of that mattered now. What was a little bleeding? He was about to snuff out a rising prodigy. What could be more gratifying,