The Nine Swords of Dragon Slaying - Second Style: Dragon's Descent

The blind young man grinned and said, "Interesting. You dare provoke the Hundred Ghosts Sect! An Yi, I’d like to see just how much your Asura Sect is worth!"

As he spoke—

The blind young man’s body blurred into an afterimage!

With terrifying speed, he lunged at An Yi!

So fast!

An Yi’s expression turned grave.

Almost instinctively, he raised his Dragonfang Demonic Sword to block!

Clang!

The scythe was already above An Yi’s head, pressing down relentlessly!

With his free hand, An Yi channeled Qi Manipulation, summoning a swirling gust of wind that he hurled straight at the blind youth’s face!

"Too weak!"

The blind youth sneered, stepping back.

Gripping his scythe with both hands, he tore through the wind blade like it was nothing and swung again!

An Yi seized the moment to leap forward, pulling out a combat knife and hurling it like a projectile at the blind youth!

"Let’s see what tricks you’ve got!"

The blind youth smirked, deflecting the knife with a flick of his scythe.

Then—

Suddenly!

A surge of overwhelming killing intent crashed down!

The blind youth’s face paled.

A blade—three meters long—streaked toward his face at blinding speed!

Sssshhk!

The blind youth barely managed to dodge backward.

His eyepatch was sliced clean off!

"Damn it! So close!"

An Yi gritted his teeth, his face slightly pale.

In that split second, he had unleashed the Dragonfang Demonic Sword’s full power, extending it from a three-foot blade to a massive three-meter greatsword.

Yet even that hadn’t landed a hit.

"That was close, you little bastard! You’re one sneaky son of a bitch!"

The blind youth took another step back, his voice trembling with lingering fear.

At the same time, his rage burned hotter.

The aura of a Peak Martial Artist erupted from his body.

With his eyepatch gone, his eyes were revealed—pitch-black voids.

Hollow, inhuman.

Eerie and unsettling.

Lin Chen, gripping his Cloud-Splitting Staff, called out, "Kid, I’ll back you up!"

"So you’re not actually blind," An Yi said coldly, staring at the youth. "You’re not from this world."

The blind youth’s face flickered with surprise before twisting into a mocking grin. "Neither are you!"

"Hah. A Warden from the Tower of Babel."

An Yi tightened his grip on the Dragonfang Demonic Sword, its edge gleaming with cold light.

He closed his eyes.

In his mind flashed the dying smile of that kind old man.

The cruel scythe.

A nightmare that had haunted him for countless nights.

"Fate has a funny way of bringing enemies together."

An Yi’s lips curled into an icy smile. "Old Lin, this one’s mine."

Lin Chen halted, staff in hand.

He had never seen such a terrifying look in An Yi’s eyes before.

Shangguan Qianqian frowned briefly before relaxing.

Meanwhile, Fang Jueming, locked in a fierce battle with the demonic monk Yu Tian, was being pushed back, battered and bruised.

His gaze shifted toward An Yi, his expression complicated.

Somehow, he could sense the overwhelming fury An Yi was suppressing.

Yu Tian, observing the fight, smirked. "Your friend’s about to die."

Fang Jueming shot him a cold glare before inhaling deeply. His fists ignited with radiant energy.

"Fourth Strike!"

A violent gust of wind, infused with Dragon Coiling Fist energy, blasted toward Yu Tian.

"Ants will always be ants. How dare you challenge an immortal?"

Yu Tian’s eyes flickered with reverence as he glanced at the blind youth before slamming his palm into Fang Jueming’s shoulder!

Fang Jueming staggered back, blood trickling from his lips, but his stance remained unbroken.

"Fifth Strike!"

Like a thunderbolt!

The force of his punch rippled outward!

Yu Tian sneered. "With Warden Que Feng here, none of you will escape alive!"

As he spoke, he met Fang Jueming’s fist with a full-powered palm strike.

Boom!

A shockwave erupted!

Yu Tian’s expression suddenly changed.

This punch—

It was far stronger than he expected!

Not only did it match his full strength, it even seemed to overpower him!

Fang Jueming grinned.

Finally!

Without interruption, he had done it!

"Sixth Strike of the Flash Fist!"

With a roar, the bandages around his fists exploded into shreds!

His punch carried the force of a mountain’s collapse!

The gale-force wind, fused with Dragon Coiling Fist energy, formed a vortex around him, sending shockwaves in all directions!

Yu Tian had no time to dodge. He gritted his teeth and raised his arms to block.

Crack!

His arm snapped instantly!

The punch’s momentum didn’t stop—it plowed straight into his chest!

Whoosh!

Yu Tian was sent flying like a cannonball, smashing into a marble structure and leaving a massive crater behind!

His fate was unknown.

Long and Hu, still fighting off waves of lesser fighters, gaped at the scene.

"How the hell is he this strong? He’s just an Initiate-level fighter like us!"

"And he just sent Yu Tian flying!"

Fang Jueming panted heavily, dropping to one knee from exhaustion. His eyes locked onto An Yi, still locked in combat with Que Feng.

"Master… don’t lose."

Clang!

Clang!

Clang!

The Dragonfang Demonic Sword clashed relentlessly against the blood-red scythe!

Their movements were so fast that even trained martial artists could barely track them!

Que Feng was a Peak Martial Artist.

An Yi held nothing back—every strike was lethal.

Hidden weapons, Qi Manipulation, unpredictable combinations—

Though Que Feng had the upper hand, finishing An Yi off was no easy task.

"Is this all you’ve got?" Que Feng taunted, his scythe unleashing a ghostly apparition!

"Soul-Severing Slash!"

An Yi’s eyes darkened.

"Tch. Same old tricks."

This attack carried a soul-rending effect. A single hit would tear one’s spirit from their body.

An Yi gripped the Dragonfang Demonic Sword with both hands.

The blade burned crimson, like molten lava.

"First Form of the Dragon-Slaying Nine Swords—Parting Sorrow!"

In an instant—

A crescent of bloody sword light erupted from the blade!

The sheer force of the slash collided with Que Feng’s ghostly strike!

Boom!

The two attacks canceled each other out!

Que Feng’s expression darkened. This was his trump card—how had this brat countered it?

"Time to get serious— Wait, where did he—?"

Then—

He looked up.

Cold sweat drenched his back.

"System! Dump all 200 points of Malevolence into [Dragon-Slaying Nine Swords]!"

An Yi’s mental command was swift.

The Dragonfang Demonic Sword shrank back into a ring on his finger.

In its place, he drew a broken, impossibly heavy sword from his storage space.

The moment it appeared, its weight dragged An Yi downward like a meteor!

Flames wreathed his body as he fell, trailing a blazing dragon of fire and wind behind him!

An indescribable terror seized Que Feng.

His hollow eyes widened. He tried to flee—

But the air around him had solidified, locking him in place!

"Then let’s see who dies first!"

Que Feng gritted his teeth as two sinister ghostly shadows surged around his body, intertwining and spiraling before charging toward An Yi, who descended from above.

An Yi stood wreathed in swirling flames, a cold smirk curling at the corners of his lips.

"Dragonfall—Second Form of the Dragon-Slaying Nine Swords!"

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