The lights flared on, and the fight began.
Zhang Xianguang acted decisively and ruthlessly. He abandoned his confrontation with Liu San and Li Lepeng, choosing instead to focus everything on killing Yang Jian. Perhaps, in his eyes, dying together with Yang Jian here was more valuable than taking down both Liu San and Li Lepeng.
Or perhaps he believed that if he could not kill even one captain while spreading out his attacks, then concentrating them might let him kill another.
Whatever the reason, he chose Yang Jian as his target.
Three rusty old broadswords came crashing down. Almost the instant the lights came on, they had already struck, so fast that there was no time to react.
Clearly, Zhang Xianguang had already surrounded Yang Jian in the darkness, waiting for his chance.
The cracked spear in Yang Jian's hand rose at that moment as well.
The lights flickered.
In the blink of an eye, a life-and-death clash had ended.
Yang Jian was instantly dismembered. One broadsword split diagonally down through the middle of his head. Yet strangely, the slash left no wound, as though it had been transferred somewhere else. But then his body was severed at the waist. Most bizarre of all was Zhang Xianguang's final strike. It was not aimed at Yang Jian himself, but at the ground beneath his feet.
That strike tore a savage gash through the Ghost Shadow, as if trying to dismember the ghost just like Yang Jian's hatchet did.
The moment that gash was ripped open, Yang Jian immediately felt his body lose control. It could no longer connect as one.
But while Yang Jian was being dismembered, his counterattack worked as well.
A cracked golden spear pierced through one of the Zhang Xianguangs, impaling and pinning him down.
The three men