Albton raised his head and paused slightly.
Brand had already taken advantage of this mont of hesitation to leap up from the rubble. His figure was like an elongated shadow, leaving discontinuous afterimages behind, as if in an instant, he had crossed a distance of more than ten ters.
Albton imdiately realized that he couldn’t track the opponent’s trajectory—the tenfold speed burst from the charge granted Brand an agility of 44 energy levels at that mont. He was like the wind, or perhaps just a gust of wind. The Undead Knight, covered in pure white armor from head to toe, had just turned his head—
But Brand was already behind him.
Albton guessed that this was so terrifying speed burst technique. In fact, he had already seen it once at the beginning of the battle. But experiencing it personally now felt different.
This young man is not simple.
The Pale Tooth of the ’White Knight’ was drawn in an instant. Instinctively, he parried behind him with a clang, blocking the Elf Sword in Brand’s hand.
This strike had already surpassed the realm of swordsmanship.
Both sides were fighting based on experience.
But Brand, missing his first strike, floated away. He still had one second. He was like a ghost, bypassing Albton’s line of sight, and thrusting at the left chest of the White Knight from the left side.
But Albton imdiately swept aside Brand’s sword with his own, without leaving a single opening—
"So troubleso." Brand, covered in wounds, gritted his teeth.
However, this ti it was the Undead Knight’s turn to change his expression. He suddenly felt Brand split into two, attacking him from the left and right. What was this, projection technique? Dual Cultivation of Magic and Martial Arts?
Albton felt the threat from behind and imdiately turned around to strike, but he only saw a Stone Statue Ghost being split in two under his sword, then rolling away far off.
That mont felt like an elongated slow-motion shot. In the Soul Fire burning in his eyes, the dispersed Stone Statue Ghost slowly disintegrated and crumbled in midair, but the Undead Knight imdiately sensed sothing was wrong.
Brand was swinging his sword from the other side. This was his final strike in his charge burst state—Power Burst, White Crow Swordsmanship.
At that very mont, the ’White Knight’ Albton lowered his sword. The Nightmare steed under him suddenly collapsed outward with all four hooves, dying instantly. Then an overwhelming force abruptly threw Brand, sword, and all, from midair, not allowing him the slightest resistance.
The Wall of Will!
Although Brand anticipated that Albton, having been a high-order knight in life, must have learned the Sun Knight Aegwen’s aura tactics, he still held a sliver of hope. But Albton’s reaction at this mont pushed him to the brink. Seizing the opportunity, he gritted his teeth, retreated seven or eight steps, then stopped and charged forward again.
The ’White Knight’ Albton had just stood up from the ground at that mont, but this gap was enough for him to counterattack.
He tossed his pure white cloak back, striding forward to coldly swing the Pale Tooth, clashing with Brand’s sword three tis in quick succession, each strike forcing Brand to stagger backward, his chest repeatedly wrenching with pain, almost coughing up blood.
At that mont, Reto and Mano finally extricated themselves from the entanglent with the skeleton soldiers. Seeing what was happening over here, they imdiately turned their horses and charged towards them—
"Erune."
Albton coldly watched as Brand’s defensive line nearly fell apart, raising his sword one last ti. The pale flas in his eyes were cold as frost, almost solidifying:
"You’ve grown too old."
He thrust his sword.
But at that mont, Brand revealed a smile. He released the Elf Sword with his left hand, raising it to block and press down on Albton’s Pale Tooth—
The Resilient Leather Gloves first emitted a blue glow, but were pierced through in an instant.
The smile faded from Brand’s face. With a composed expression, he pressed the sword down—both gloves on his hands catching fire instantly from magic overload.
But the sword still pressed downward, leaving a bloody gash on his palm. It then bit into his chain armor, the broken links dropping like smoothly split wood, and the serpentine sword drilled into the young man’s abdon.
The blood was as vivid as aged red wine—
But Albton saw not victory at that mont.
He saw Brand’s bloodied left hand grabbing his skeletal right hand, slowly yet firmly—keeping the Pale Tooth in its piercing position. Then Brand raised the Elf Sword in his right hand.
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