...
"I hope you can forgive for not answering," Yan Xiaobao said, his voice steady as if he wasn’t intimidated in the slightest by the Saint before him. His cold gaze and suppressed killing intent briefly stunned the towering Saint. Monts later, the Saint burst into laughter. "I understand, I understand," he said between laughter. "Alright, no need to worry, I’ll mount your head beside . Your actual rank ans nothing."
"Well, why don’t we see if you’re capable of that," Yan Xiaobao responded, summoning his golden martial wings. As he ascended into the sky, the red fog surged outward, forming the wolf heads. Born of the crimson mist, their eyes glead like rubies, and their teeth were as sharp as razor blades. As they charged towards the expert still standing atop the wall, many wolf heads howled loudly. Seeing wolves soaring through the air, disbelief washed over the Saint’s face. It was as though he was gazing upon a hybrid of creatures beyond imagination, sothing he’d never encountered before.
Unfortunately, the expert wasn’t so easily shaken. Regaining his composure quickly, he repelled the wolf heads using his martial power. Despite creating a barrier, his astonished eyes betrayed him once more when one wolf managed to sink its teeth into his leg, draining a significant amount of blood.
Witnessing this, Yan Xiaobao knew he’d been underestimated. His eyes turned as frigid as the coldest winter, and his lips curled into a cold sneer. Blue flas burst forth from his entire body as he waited for the opportune mont to incinerate the Saint. Though their levels of governance were worlds apart, Yan Xiaobao couldn’t help but feel that as long as he was underestimated, the advantage would be his.
Seeing the blue flas engulfing Yan Xiaobao, the Saint was visibly startled. He was a Saint, and he knew well how rare blue flas were. Their creation required imnse energy, and these flas were far more dangerous than the ordinary red flas mastered by most experts.
The Saint’s lips curled into a smile as he watched the young werewolf cloaked entirely in blue fire. His hand gripped the warhamr’s handle tightly, and his eyes sparkled as he looked at the youth before him. "You seem to have a lot of secrets," said the Saint, licking his lips with excitent, "which explains why you’re the Great Marshall. Add to that, this kind of power... How could you have grown so strong so quickly?" He spoke as if they were acquaintances eting for the first ti, expressing polite curiosity rather than the deadly rivalry of two experts clashing on a battlefield.
Despite the barrage of questions, Yan Xiaobao remained silent. While his opponent appeared relaxed and talkative, it was clear he possessed the capability to act in this manner. anwhile, Yan Xiaobao operated on the power of Lan Feng, which was limited.
Realizing Yan Xiaobao had no intention of answering, the towering Saint sighed deeply, as if soone had robbed him of his greatest joy. His previously cheerful expression soured slightly as he started spinning the warhamr in circles, as if it were as light as a feather. His face no longer radiated happiness; instead, it was filled with a sense of irritation.
"I truly hope you’ve got sothing hidden up your sleeve," the Saint said, his voice now low and threatening, his deanor completely transford. "I don’t know what it ans to hold back. I’ll be coming at you with everything I’ve got," he declared, gripping the hamr in his hand—a sight that made Yan Xiaobao feel a sliver of unease. Though Yan Xiaobao was a beast, he faced a Saint far stronger than himself, wielding a warhamr large enough to crush his body with a single strike.
Yan Xiaobao’s gaze locked onto the man before him. Despite his growing apprehension, he knew he had no choice but to press forward with all his might. Hearing the sounds around him, collisions and shockwaves echoed in a tumultuous cacophony, shaking his body and forcing him to stagger where he stood. Yan Xiaobao was unnerved, guessing that other Saints were already locked in combat. It was likely that none of them could spare assistance for their Great Marshall, leaving Yan Xiaobao alone to face a Saint of overwhelming power—far stronger than the many others battling nearby.
As Yan Xiaobao pondered over his circumstances, he suddenly felt danger looming before him and retreated from the Saint at the fastest pace possible. "Oh, well done!" the Saint praised, as his warhamr struck the spot Yan Xiaobao had occupied less than a second ago. Wasting no ti, the hamr swung again mid-air, targeting its next position.
Sensing the impending threat, Yan Xiaobao pushed his Speed Flow to its limit, narrowly dodging the warhamr’s relentless strikes from all angles. He felt the pressure mounting with each mont, the danger growing with every attack. Although Yan Xiaobao wished to counterattack, it was nearly impossible; the warhamr continued its ceaseless rotations, relentlessly hunting him down.
Clenching his teeth, Yan Xiaobao studied the towering Saint’s pattern of swings. At first, the movents seed entirely random, but after evading about twenty strikes, he finally discerned a rhythm. Noticing this, the Saint’s eyes shimred with astonishnt, his lips curling into a smile. His face displayed a childlike glee that made Yan Xiaobao feel even more uneasy.
User Comments
0 comments from readers