Chapter 341: Delay
Lancelot’s burning figure snapped up, rising without needing to jump, crashing onto Dominic’s chest, before rising further still.
Flames blew everywhere, propelling Lancelot upward, lifting Dominic while engulfing him in his scorching spell. Still, the sky had no safety since the phoenix’s attack was coming.
Actually, it was already there.
Flames caught Dominic on both sides, and then from every direction. Lancelot kept rising through the pillar of the phoenix’s creation, as if wanting to create an upside-down version of the very meteorite his powerful opponent had summoned earlier.
Except that Lancelot didn’t have a single mocking vein in him. He didn’t care for pride, rules of the cultivation world, or politics. He lost himself in the moment, laughing despite his very flesh being on fire.
The area had fire from the phoenix, the fiery phoenix itself, the flames that Lancelot’s body was fueling, and scarlet tongues that rained everywhere, burning the destroyed environment once more.
And, at Lancelot’s laugh, each one of those flames flickered with more intensity, echoing his voice and frenzied mood. The world seemed to be having so much fun that it had gone crazy, but one sane mind still existed.
Before Lancelot’s burning figure could reunite with the phoenix, the world came to a standstill. Everything froze for a fraction of a second, only for destruction to unfold once time resumed flowing.
A horizontal crack cut through the mass of clashing flames, which exploded outward, screeching in pain as they lost their power and vanished out of thin air.
Storms followed. Winds blew everywhere, crashing down on a soil that had long since started breaking. The consequences of that single crack spread far and wide, like a contained natural disaster.
Dominic reappeared in the middle of the sky, standing in the air, temporarily defying gravity. His presence raged, sending wave after wave of suffocating energy, and for no small reason.
The upper side of Dominic’s dark robe was no more. His hairy torso was in the open, only for most of it to be burned, his charred skin still crackling.
Drops of blood had even tainted Dominic’s lips. The injury was far from severe or debilitating, especially for an expert at his level, but it was definitely there. Lancelot had actually gotten a clean, meaningful hit on him.
Dominic started to fall prey to gravity, but his head snapped to his right, sending a heavy gale in that direction. One fire had survived his previous technique, and it still had the gall to target him.
Lancelot’s state was far sorrier than Dominic’s. Burns littered his body, leaving patches of missing, bleeding flesh everywhere. His skin looked on the verge of falling apart, but it was also glowing, releasing steam while healthy tissue grew over the wounds.
Moreover, what was left of the phoenix had fused with Lancelot. Its wings had wrapped themselves around his arms, and its proud head had enveloped his hair, turning it into actual flames now.
Naturally, Lancelot’s feverish smile had yet to disappear. He was also in the sky, falling, but relatively close to Dominic, definitely close enough to continue his assault.
"Junior!" Dominic cried, his voice slamming on Lancelot, pushing him away until the flames on his arms and head rose to halt his momentum. "I gave your Sect face! Now, I’ll kill you!"
Dominic was already acting while those words left his throat. He swung at the air in Lancelot’s direction, his punch slowed down by an invisible opposition that broke instead of stopping it.
The sound of shattering glass resounded. The air itself seemed to break as Dominic’s fist advanced. Small spiderwebs of cracks opened alongside the punch’s trajectory, exploding when his arm was completely stretched.
Even before the attack was complete, its nature was impossible to miss. The amount of Qi that had moved alongside the swing had more than proven its standing. Dominic was resorting to a rank 3 martial art.
Nevertheless, Dominic wasn’t alone in that.
The Secret Jade Sect truly was a different breed compared to the forces in those distant reaches of the Kingdom. Lancelot was also a special case, having access to resources many would spend entire lifetimes seeking.
While rank 3 martial arts weren’t common, they were more common in a Sect near the Inner Circles, and Lancelot had exactly two of those. One was called Burning Man, and it used his flesh as fuel, while the other was a simple, brutish release of scorching Qi called Fire Impact.
As Dominic swung his fist, Lancelot’s arms also moved, the fiery wings attached to them following that gesture. He joined his hands into the shape of an arrowhead, which sucked Qi directly from his core, accumulating it in his fingertips.
The two attacks shot simultaneously. One was just pressure, like an invisible eruption. Meanwhile, the other was a torrent of blinding heat, like a beam that grew bigger the longer it traveled.
The clash sent repercussions down to the ground. Fissures opened left and right. Entire chunks of soil rose and sank as an earthquake took control of the area.
As for the clash’s outcome, there was only one possible result. When the martial arts’ rank was the same, the Qi made all the difference.
A trail of flames came crashing down, hitting the trembling ground heavily, snuffing out the remaining fire. Lancelot lay in a hole of his own creation, motionless, only partially healed, his eyes still open, but his hair having reverted to its blonde color.
Dominic landed at the hole’s edge, his arrival causing no ripple in the area. The innate pressure his presence radiated suppressed the earthquake, bringing stability to the wasteland. The previous injury was still there, but the last clash had left him virtually unaffected.
"Did you think being gifted rank 3 martial arts made you a branching expert?" Dominic snorted, stepping into the hole to stand above Lancelot. "Junior, I’ll take you to the Shrouded Desert Sect. Geniuses like you are only worth their ransom."
Lancelot didn’t move even as Dominic leaned down to grab him. His smile was fading. He looked on the verge of collapsing, but it was Dominic who interrupted his own gesture.
Dominic abruptly straightened himself, frowning, his gaze snapping past his shoulder, alerted by his senses. Something dangerous was coming, but a hot pressure spread on his ankle before he could move.
The branching expert looked down and found Lancelot clinging to his leg, his hand aflame, but not brighter than his excited face. That simple grip couldn’t hinder Dominic, but checking it delayed his reaction, making him one step too late.
Dominic was already looking down, so he saw something dark flashing past his chest, leaving a black trail in the air as it flew even further.
However, the trail hadn’t merely crossed Dominic. It came from the very center of his chest. It had gone through him, carving a fist-sized channel where his heart had once been.
