Ambush (3)

But just as Gao Sha thought he had escaped the enemy's sneak attack, every hair on his body suddenly stood on end. An unprecedented crisis of life and death made cold sweat instantly seep from his back, soaking his robes.

In that hair's-breadth instant, he madly drove the spiritual power within him to its limit. Unable to withstand the violent surge of spiritual power in such a short time, many of his meridians had already ruptured.

But how could Gao Sha spare any attention for that now? His figure dragged out a long afterimage as he pushed the Black-Feathered Condor's innate speed to its utmost limit.

Yet a broad rain of blood still scattered down through the air. Only then did Gao Sha's pained muffled groan drift over from afar.

A slanting afterimage in the sky slowly contracted from a long streak into the distance, finally becoming Gao Sha himself.

At that moment, blood was spraying from beneath Gao Sha's ribs, and a large patch of his clothing there had already been dyed red.

Gao Sha's face turned somewhat pale. While staring fixedly ahead, his other hand produced a porcelain bottle, and he swiftly poured some powder onto his wound.

The sounds of battle all around grew even fiercer, shaking the soul, yet Gao Sha turned a deaf ear to them.

Where his gaze rested, a sinister-looking middle-aged scholar revealed himself and tossed a frozen reed stalk from his hand onto the ground.

He was none other than the Feng family's ancestor. To better ambush their opponents, they had not used magic treasures, spirit artifacts, or talismans in the first wave of attacks.

Instead, they had cleverly made use of thatch and reeds. Things that had originally been frail enough to snap at a touch became no different from sharp