Diexin reacts instantly.
She leaps back as poisonous fire erupts beneath her, surging upward like a living beast.
In the sa mont, the Ice Mirror appears in her hand.
A powerful aura spreads.
She imdiately senses it,
The presence of a Soul Awakening cultivator.
The world around her shifts.
She finds herself within a domain of poison fire, a burning field that surrounds her completely, yet the flas do not touch her directly.
Without hesitation, she channels her energy into the Ice Mirror.
The mirror shines.
A layer of ice forms around her, expanding into a small but stable field that isolates her from the surrounding flas.
Then,
A figure appears before her.
A young man.
His eyes lock onto the mirror above her, and greed flashes across his face.
“A high-level spiritual treasure…”
He Riu’s voice carries both awe and desire.
As he looks at Diexin, a bitter thought rises in his mind.
He has lived for hundreds of years, struggling, refining his own treasure with painstaking effort,
Yet it is only mid-level.
Compared to her,
It feels aningless.
He speaks calmly, masking his greed.
“Madam, co with . Our sect master wishes to et you.”
Diexin lets out a cold sneer.
“I think I will refuse.”
He Riu smiles faintly.
“Madam… that is not your decision.”
He lifts his hand,
And snaps his fingers.
A massive hand of green fire forms instantly, descending toward Diexin as it attempts to grasp her whole.
Diexin channels more energy into the Ice Mirror.
The mirror shines brighter.
The ice field expands outward, pushing back against the poison fire domain.
The descending green fire hand freezes midair,
Then shatters into nothingness.
Now,
Her ice field stands like an isolated island within a vast sea of green flas.
He Riu frowns slightly.
She will not be easy to deal with.
Without hesitation, he moves.
In just two steps,
He enters the ice field.
And attacks.
Diexin no longer holds back.
She channels the power of Wither into her Dragon Sword and ets his strike head-on.
Clang,
The blade strikes his arm.
His body is strong,
Stronger than the Dragon Sword itself.
At first, he believes he has taken no damage.
But then,
Pain.
A sharp, unnatural pain spreads through his arm.
Unauthorized use of content: if you find this story on Amazon, report the violation.
His eyes narrow as he notices the dark green energy lingering around the point of contact, slowly breaking down his own energy.
His expression turns solemn.
He quickly withdraws his hand and channels his power to expel the invading force.
What kind of energy is this…?
It can even erode my energy despite the difference in our cultivation.
But he does not dwell on it.
Capture her first.
Everything else can be learned later.
His hands move again.
Claw-like gloves manifest over his palms, sharp and nacing.
He attacks once more.
Diexin steps forward,
eting his strike directly.
Her sword moves.
Not wildly.
Not recklessly.
But with structure.
With intent.
The Wither energy within her does not originate from her own comprehension, but from the seed rin placed within her dantian, a foundation she now studies, explores, and reshapes into sothing that belongs to her.
And so,
She created her own sword technique.
A path to make that power her own.
She strikes.
“First Move, Thorn Seed’s Breath.”
Her blade thrusts forward in a precise, piercing motion.
Around the sword, seed-like constructs form, covered in sharp thorns, spiralling and expanding as they surge toward He Riu, each one carrying the essence of Wither.
He Riu counters with a heavy strike.
Diexin does not dodge.
Instead,
“Fifth Move, Absolute Zero Wall.”
Her body freezes in place, encased in ice of extre cold, her form hardened to an absolute limit as the attack lands against her.
The impact disperses.
She breaks free instantly.
And retaliates.
“Fourth Move, Blighted Strike.”
Her blade arcs downward.
The mont it touches,
The energy seeps inward.
Corrupting.
Rotting.
Like wood left to decay.
He Riu’s expression tightens as he steps back, quickly channelling his energy to suppress the spreading damage along his arm.
Diexin does not pause.
“Sixth Move, Ice Vine Strangle.”
With a swing of her sword, icy vines erupt outward, twisting and coiling as they aim to bind his limbs and restrict his movent.
He Riu raises his left hand.
Poison fire erupts.
Serpent-like flas lash out, burning through the vines before they can tighten around him.
His injury is stabilised,
For now.
He attacks again.
Diexin pivots smoothly.
“Third Move, Miasma Coil.”
A mist spreads from her blade, subtle yet invasive, targeting the nerves upon contact.
But He Riu’s resistance is strong.
The poison has little effect.
Diexin’s eyes sharpen.
Then,
“Seventh Move, Black Ice Strike.”
Her sword becos encased in dark ice, the energy within it no longer targeting the surface,
But the vitality itself.
She strikes.
He Riu blocks.
Yet the force pushes him back, his footing slipping slightly within the contested field.
Diexin advances again without giving him space.
“Eighth Move, Septic Bloom.”
Petal-like fragnts form around her, each carrying a prototype of Wither energy, blooming outward like a storm as they surge toward him from all directions.
He Riu’s body ignites with poison fire, forming a defensive layer that burns away the incoming assault, though not without strain.
Diexin’s next attack follows imdiately.
“Ninth Move, Internal Winter Hell.”
A beam of cold energy shoots from her blade, aiming not at his body,
But within it.
To freeze his internal energy.
He Riu reacts sharply, his own energy surging inward as it transforms into poisonous fire, burning away the invading cold before it can take hold.
The clash pauses,
For only a fraction of a mont.
Then,
He Riu attacks again.
This ti, he no longer holds back.
The hesitation in his movents disappears, replaced by a ruthless precision as his claws tear through the air, each strike carrying heavier force and denser poison fire.
The surrounding domain reacts.
The green flas surge higher, pressing inward, compressing Diexin’s ice field, attempting to crush her space little by little.
He is no longer trying to test her,
He is trying to subdue her.
Forcefully.
Diexin feels the pressure imdiately.
Every exchange becos heavier.
Every strike carries more weight.
Her arms tremble slightly as she parries, her body forced to yield ground step by step.
But she does not retreat.
Her sword moves continue.
Flowing.
Relentless.
“First Move, Thorn Seed’s Breath.”
“Third Move, Miasma Coil.”
“Seventh Move, Black Ice Strike.”
The techniques cycle, overlapping, connecting, forming a continuous stream of attacks and defences.
He Riu’s strikes beco sharper.
Faster.
Deadlier.
A claw tears across her shoulder,
Blood seeps out.
Another strike nearly reaches her throat,
She narrowly deflects it.
The pressure builds.
Yet,
Her eyes grow clearer.
In that pressure,
Her understanding deepens.
The Wither energy within her begins to respond differently.
No longer separate.
No longer forced into her techniques.
It starts to rge.
Naturally.
The thorn seeds decay as they strike.
The miasma carries deeper corrosion.
The black ice begins to erode vitality directly.
Each move begins to change.
Subtly.
Then more clearly.
Her sword techniques begin to evolve.
The nine moves,
Start to overlap.
One blends into another.
Redundant edges vanish.
Unnecessary transitions disappear.
Nine,
Beco six.
Her movents simplify.
But grow more efficient.
More dangerous.
He Riu notices it.
His expression tightens.
She is improving mid-battle.
That realisation pushes him further.
He roars, his energy surging violently.
Poison fire erupts around him like a storm as he unleashes a killing move.
A massive claw of condensed poison fla descends, carrying destructive force ant to end the battle.
Diexin raises her sword.
She does not retreat.
She steps forward.
Her techniques shift again.
Six,
Beco three.
Each move now carries multiple functions.
Attack.
Defense.
Corrosion.
All in one.
Her breath begins to rise.
From the peak of the Sublimation Stage,
Higher.
The battlefield itself begins to respond.
Her presence changes.
The air around her grows dry.
Faint particles,
Like ash,
Begin to form.
The battle is no longer just combat,
It is tempering her.
Refining her.
He Riu’s killing strike descends.
Diexin moves.
Her sword lifts.
The final transformation occurs.
Three,
Beco one.
All her understanding,
All her techniques,
All her Wither energy,
Condense into a single motion.
She whispers,
“Autumn’s Sorrow.”
The sword falls.
A wave of Wither energy erupts outward.
Not violent.
Not explosive.
But absolute.
It strikes He Riu.
His body is thrown backwards, sent flying through the air as his energy collapses under the impact.
The poison fire around him flickers.
Weakens.
Around Diexin,
A field begins to form.
Pale.
Silent.
White ash drifts through the air.
A prototype domain.
The beginning of sothing greater.
She stands at its centre.
Breathing slowly.
User Comments
0 comments from readers