As he spoke, the qi dynamics around Lian Youming were already changing. His pupils contracted, then expanded, before blazing with light. The red mole between his brows filled with blood, as though turning into a bead of blood.
There was no time left to hesitate. He had to do everything possible to secure a chance of victory.
Otherwise, a single failed move might send him straight to the King of Hell's court.
More importantly, if this were merely about winning or losing, he might not have needed to take those two pills. But he was here to save someone, so he had to make absolutely certain nothing went wrong. Even if he died, he could not let this man pass.
Their gazes collided, their eyes locking.
"You rely on outside power, yet think yourself worthy of discussing the Martial Way with me?"
Suddenly, Mr. Corpse's smile vanished, his face becoming stiff and expressionless. His right hand, previously held behind his back, shot out like lightning, pointing through the air. His middle finger protruded, forming a finger-shadow that stabbed straight toward Lian Youming's middle dantian.
Shaolin's supreme technique, One-Finger Zen.
Fast, precise, ruthless.
It appeared in a flash, the finger-shadow already before him.
Meanwhile, feeling the miraculous medicinal power dissolving within him, Lian Youming suddenly found his consciousness lucid and his mind clear. The world before him seemed to grow ever sharper, as though... as though it had slowed down a little.
It was so clear.
He felt that a mere thought could make everything he had ever experienced reappear before his eyes in perfect detail, recalling every last bit. Even things he had lost and forgotten as a small child now came back to him.
And the finger-shadow Mr. Corpse thrust through the air had slowed considerably as well.
Without