At that mont, Lin Mo had already reached a point twenty kiloters away from the capital of New Russia, "Riya."
Here, a group of soldiers had long since ford a defensive wall blocking the front, each one on high alert with a solemn expression on their faces. After all, their target in this battle was not another military force but a single person, soone god-like.
Soldiers are ordinary people, and naturally, they feel a sense of fear when they encounter soone whose power surpasses that of mortals.
Lin Mo had seen scenes like this countless tis along the way, each thwarted effortlessly.
"Ah, there's actually a Half-step Martial God here?" Lin Mo was slightly surprised. Along the way, he had slain several High-level Martial Emperors and Peak Martial Emperors, but now, through his Divine Sense, he could tell that this person was a Half-step Martial God Martial Arts Practitioner, and his strength was significantly stronger than any Half-step Martial Gods he had killed in Shanghai and Japan.
Soon, over the grassland defenses, a figure approached swiftly, clad in a white British Navy uniform with a yellow beard on his shoulders, hovering about a foot off the ground, walking on the wind.
"Forr Commodore Brant of the British Sixth Naval Group, at your service, sir," this Blood Prison expert approached Lin Mo, bowed in a gentlemanly manner, and bent slightly.
Brant, the third-ranked person in Blood Prison, graduated from the University of London. In his early forties, he served as a commodore in the Sixth Naval Group. After discovering his boss's affair with his wife, he murdered his boss's entire family in a fit of rage, leading to his being wanted by the British Intelligence Six Bureau, after which he escaped to New Russia and joined Blood Prison.
He had cultivated since his early years, his strength reaching that of a Half-step Martial God.
Lin Mo gazed indifferently at Brant, the Blood Prison expert standing before him, and stopped walking.
Although Brant was nearly a hundred years old in reality, he looked like a man in his early twenties with fair skin, golden hair, and a fair face, exquisitely handso to the degree that if he wore won's clothes, he might be mistaken for a woman.
This was enough to show that his strength was extrely terrifying, to the extent of reversing the aging process.
"Do you think you can stop ?" Lin Mo asked indifferently.
"Your Honors need not be angry. I am from Blood Prison, not intending to block your way, but I would like to know why you want to kill our people?" Brant's brown pupils seed to exude a magical charm, giving one an oddly amiable illusion.
Lin Mo's eyes were icy as he sneered and said, "Blood Prison has provoked twice. I ca here for nothing else but to destroy Blood Prison, that's all!"
Brant frowned, pondered for a mont, then rembered a few months ago when Blood Prison experts went to Huaxia on a mission but were killed.
Could this Huaxia young man be the one who killed the Blood Prison experts?
In an instant, Brant understood, and said solemnly, "Just for a few provocations from Blood Prison experts, you traveled to our New Russia, killed three of our Blood Prison Guardian-level experts, and destroyed so many armies?"
"They are dead, just dead. I told you, I ca to New Russia to destroy you Blood Prison!" Lin Mo stated coldly, his hands behind his back.
"If that's the case, then you and I must battle! I advise you, Blood Prison isn't as simple as you think. If you leave now, you might still have a chance to live," Brant said, his aura suddenly soaring, and white streams of energy condensed behind him, sweeping like a fierce wind.
Lin Mo glanced indifferently at Brant and spoke calmly, "You think you can stop with your trash? How about this, if you can withstand three blows from using only a third of my strength, I will spare your life."
"You..."
Brant's face slightly changed, sensing just from Lin Mo's laid-back words the terrifying energy fluctuation.
Inside, however, Brant was fuming with rage. Three layers of strength! For him, a Half-step Martial God, that was the ultimate insult!
"Fine! I shall see for myself what audacious strength you Martial Arts Practitioners of Huaxia really have!"
Brant's expression turned icy, his eyes filled with murderous intent that swelled to its peak.
"Furious Wind Cross Slash!"
Following that, Brant's Wind Elent energy gathered together like a dancing dragon, forming a massive blade about thirty ters long that tore through the air, creating a reverberating stream of air and a surge of monuntal force, charging directly forward as the grass under his feet violently shattered, leaving a mark several hundred feet deep.
"First punch."
Lin Mo's expression was indifferent, casually throwing a punch. The seemingly simple fist shimred with a cold brilliance like a rock, like diamond, blindingly bright.
A punch tore through the air, a Punch Mark soaring hundreds of feet into the sky, like a War God descending.
Brant saw it and imdiately, a Wind Barrier amassed in front of his chest.
Boom!
The fist directly shattered the oncoming Wind Blade, though its speed and strength had lessened slightly. Still, it maintained a fearless montum, ferociously advancing, and finally struck Brant's Wind Shield in front of his chest, producing a muffled thud as both the Punch Mark and Wind Shield dissipated. But Brant was sent reeling back more than a dozen ters, his blood roiling from the Qi Force shock.
"How strong," Brant's pupils contracted, his eyes revealing deep shock.
Just the third layer of power, yet a single punch had made him, a Half-step Martial God, have an adverse surge of blood!
Moreover, this was just an ordinary punch from Lin Mo. Brant looked at him in astonishnt—why was his strength so formidable? Could it be that he had reached a realm even more terrifying than his own?
"Second punch." Lin Mo looked at Brant with an intrigued expression, one hand behind his back, his voice indifferent.
"Damn you, this ti I won't let you hurt ! Wind Elent, Thousand Shadows Sword."
Brant's face darkened. To think that rely the third layer of power had injured him—it was embarrassingly shaful to even think about spreading such news.
Imdiately, he summoned all his energy and focus. The plain was rich with Wind Elent, his natural battlefield, much like a fish entering the sea.
As Brant swung his hand, Wind Blades gathered in the sky, each transparent like water, rging into a swarm like thousands of blades, each capable of slicing through Star Fallen Iron!
"My lord, if you would set aside our grievances and befriend the Blood Prison, you would gain unimaginable benefits. At our level, why would you risk your life over a trivial matter?" Brant stared at Lin Mo, his voice chillingly sharp.
"I said, today I will eliminate your Blood Prison!" Lin Mo's expression was cold, brooking no negotiation, then a brilliant cyan light burst from his fist, drawing trails of afterimages, breaking through space, directly targeting Brant.
Brant's expression turned to one of great alarm, not daring any delay, then bellowed, "Thousand Shadows Sword!"
This ultimate technique utilized his superpower to control the Wind Elent, condensing countless blades to attack the enemy, capable of instantly slaughtering a whole unit of the Broken Martial Army.
Thousands of blades in the sky swept crazily towards him, hissing through the air like thousands of arrows. Lin Mo didn't dodge, letting the Sky-breaking Wind Blades strike him as his Punch Light cut through the air.
Brant saw the Sky-breaking Wind Blades slashing directly onto Lin Mo's shoulder, a slight smile finally appearing on his face, but it froze the next mont.
The Wind Blades had only crinkled Lin Mo's clothing slightly; they hadn't even cut through the fabric!
"This...impossible…" Brant's eyes filled with shock and anger. Lin Mo was too strong, enviable in his power!
The next second, Lin Mo's Punch Light, as if slicing through tofu, easily penetrated nurous spaces and struck Brant's chest.
Instantly, Brant flew backward like a kite with a broken string, traveling twenty ters before heavily crashing into the prairie, creating a huge pit.
"You're too weak!" Lin Mo shook his head indifferently.
At this mont, Brant's eyes were filled with disbelief. This man's strength was imnse, comparable to a legendary S-tier fighter!
Brant spat out a mouthful of fresh blood, his organs churning, spleen damaged, and his expression turned to one of horror as he cried out, "I won't take your third punch!"
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