Seeing no reactions from the trio, the three black-robed men launched their attacks simultaneously, each one utilizing a different ability.
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The man attacking Ji Fang brandished a black saber, its blade imbued with a palpable aura of death and dense saber Qi. With each swing, the saber seemed to emit a chilling whisper, as if beckoning for Ji Fang’s life to be claimed.
Ji Fang remained unfazed by his opponent. He knew that this tactic would have been more effective against someone like Han Zhi, whose cultivation only focused on forging his body.
In the Spiritdrift world, there were two common methods to defeat cultivators like Han Zhi. One was to directly attack their soul, while the other involved using a weapon infused with powerful saber Qi to pierce through their defense. However, both methods were relatively uncommon, with saber cultivators and soul attacks being rare occurrences.
As the deadly saber arced toward him, Ji Fang’s eyes flashed with a mix of contempt and confidence. He sneered inwardly, fully aware that his opponent had underestimated his true strength.
Instead of evading or blocking the swing of the saber, Ji Fang allowed his body to shift, becoming intangible and ethereal. The black saber passed through him as if he were made of smoke, its deadly edge unable to find purchase. Even the menacing saber Qi surrounding the weapon dispersed harmlessly in the air, dissipating as if swallowed by Ji Fang’s inner energy.
A smirk played at the corners of Ji Fang’s lips as he seized the opportunity. With a swift and fluid motion, he extended his hand toward the black-robed man, his fingers moving with astonishing agility exerting immense pressure around the man’s neck, rendering him completely immobile.
Try as he might, the black-robed man could not break free, struggling futilely against the invisible bonds constricting his movements.
While being trapped in Ji Fang’s grip, panic infused the black-robed man’s eyes, realizing the dire situation he found himself in.
Meanwhile, Mi Ling stood emotionlessly, a captivating aura surrounded her, emanating an air of tranquility amidst the mounting tension. Her eyes, like portals to another world, glimmered with a seven-colored radiance, casting an otherworldly glow upon her surroundings. Each shade within her gaze danced and flickered, interweaving like ethereal ribbons, enchanting all who beheld them.
In the face of imminent peril, the black-robed man, driven by vile intent, found himself ensnared by an invisible force. His stride came to an abrupt halt, unsure of the unknown power that now held him captive. Pulsing with desperation, he instinctively reached for the hilt of his sword, but as his trembling hand grasped the cold metal, a profound twist of fate unfolded before him.
Instead of turning the blade against Mi Ling, the weapon seemed to possess a will of its own, rebelling against its master’s command. It defied his intentions, veering off its intended path, curving in mid-air, and perilously pointing back at its owner. The sheer horror that engulfed the black-robed man’s expression was a testament to his realization that he had lost control over his own agency, imprisoned by an invisible force that chose his fate for him.
Liang, found himself locked in a ferocious battle with a formidable adversary. The air crackled with tension as a black-robed man, emanating an aura of darkness, closed in on Liang.
In the man’s hands, a dark shield gleamed ominously, displaying intricate patterns that seemed to pulsate with malevolence. The shield appeared impervious to any attack, serving as an impenetrable barrier, ready to deflect any strike that dared to challenge its ominous presence.
However, it was the sinister dark green whip held in the man’s other hand that appeared much more unique. The flickering shadows cast by the whip seemed to take on a life of their own as if possessed by a malevolent force. With an eerie fluidity, the whip slithered through the air, appearing almost sentient as it sought out Liang’s every movement.
No matter how swiftly and unpredictably Liang maneuvered, the whip would twist and turn, persistently aiming to entangle and ensnare him. It seemed to anticipate his every move, nullifying his usual void abilities that had once rendered opponents helpless.
Undeterred by this daunting challenge, Liang’s reflexes were honed to perfection. With lightning-fast agility, he gracefully sidestepped and evaded the whip’s sinister tendrils, narrowly escaping its clutches time and time again.
At the same time, his void sense was extended to its fullest, encompassing the minutest of details and capturing the movements of everyone around him with precision.
Particularly, Jiang Yan appeared to be struggling the most among the group. Despite the intense flames engulfing her, they failed to have any impact on her opponent. The black-robed man seemed impervious to the destructive power of fire, effortlessly dodging or deflecting each fiery attack she unleashed.
His body appeared to possess an inherent immunity to the flames, and even the briefest contact with his fist caused considerable damage to Jiang Yan. Each strike delivered by the man left behind a smoldering mark on her body, inflicting both physical and internal wounds.
The Monk and The Daoist Priest appeared to be locked in a fierce battle, seemingly discontent with the current situation. The sheer strength of their adversaries was evident, as the battle prowess of each opponent suppressed the late-stage dao integration realm.
Positioned behind the Monk, a majestic Buddha Projection manifested, possessing a remarkable sight: nine arms and three heads. while encircling the Monk were spiraling vortices of resplendent Golden lotuses. Despite facing simultaneous attacks from his adversaries, the Monk stood unwaveringly, displaying remarkable fortitude and resilience.
In contrast, the Daoist Priest executed his movements with otherworldly grace and refinement. His every action seemed to be guided by astral rhythm, as a constellation of radiant stars floated gracefully around him. These stars exuded immense heat and pressure, signifying the tremendous power the Daoist Priest possessed. His opponents found themselves challenged significantly, struggling to match his skill and prowess.
Zhuo Li’s battle was rapidly spiraling out of control. The two opponents he faced were a formidable pair, their skills complementing each other seamlessly. With each swing of their ancient halberds, they effortlessly transitioned between offense and defense, leaving behind a trail of deep wounds that marred Zhuo Li’s body.
As he struggled to hold his own, the old man was in an even worse state. His visage revealed the toll the intense battle had taken on him. The flying swords that once surrounded him, acting as his protectors and weapons, had dwindled in number, most likely shattered or dissipated in the relentless exchange.
Confronted by the two black-robed men, the old man took a moment to gather his strength. He drew in a deep breath, channeling the essence of his being. With careful precision, his hands formed intricate mystical seals, each motion carrying a weight of determination. The air around him crackled with energy as his aura surged, fueled by the sacrifice of his blood essence and life force. It was a desperate gambit to amplify his power and turn the tide of the fierce battle.
The fragile, blonde young girl now appears utterly miserable, her sorrow etched upon her face in a heart-wrenching manner. A sizable, bloodstained wound mars her delicate features, a painful testament to the depths of her suffering, evoking profound sympathy from onlookers.
The pair of knives she tightly clutched in her trembling hands no longer bore the marks of their previous sharpness and immaculate condition. Instead, they now presented a sorry sight, displaying signs of wear, tear, and destruction. Their surfaces were marred with scratches, dents, and chipped edges, conveying a sense of their tumultuous journey and the chaos they had witnessed. The once polished and formidable blades now appeared worn and rendered ineffective, mirroring the girl’s current state of vulnerability and hopelessness.
In the midst of the intense battle, a moment of unforeseen turn of events unfolded, catching everyone off guard. Gu Hong, his muscles tensed in anticipation of launching a ferocious attack against his opponent, suddenly altered the trajectory of his strike with uncanny swiftness. His lethal strike, initially aimed towards his adversary, swiftly pivoted towards the already occupied monk.
The monk, his countenance characterized by tranquil serenity, was caught off balance by the unexpected shift in Gu Hong’s attack. A flicker of surprise materialized in his eyes for the briefest of moments before he gracefully waved his hand in a mystical gesture. In an instant, the vibrant, ethereal lotus flowers that encircled him underwent a miraculous metamorphosis, transforming into an impenetrable shield clothed in shimmering golden radiance.
Yet, the anticipated impact never materialized. Instead, the golden shield dispersed into countless radiant motes like dissipating stardust. As the shield dissipated, the looming Buddha projection, that had been ominously manifesting behind the monk also dissipated like a mirage, fading away into nothingness.
However, what truly captured everyone’s attention wasn’t the unexpected collision, but rather the sight of the headless body of the monk.
The Evil Warding Monk, a formidable cultivator who had reached the half-step void Transformation Realm, had been mercilessly beheaded.