"Boom..."
Bright Summit trembled, casting loose rolling boulders. A horrifying remnant force formed ripples in midair like clouds lit by fire. Everything it touched—trees, rocks—turned to dust, even Tang Xiong and Yang Potian, who were fighting nearby, were forced down from the peak...
As the radiant aftermath descended, only the Ming Sect’s Holy Fire Hall remained standing on Bright Summit amidst the flattened surroundings, with patches of ice and snow still visible on the bare rocks.
After being flung back about ten yards by the rebound force, Yang Ge immediately stabilized his form and pounced even more fiercely, slashing with the "Spring Thunder Strike" toward the gigantic golden bell:
With one swing, a golden aura like the morning sun burst forth, slicing through dozens of strikes in an instant with roaring waves, striking the golden bell.
"Clang..."
The golden bell shattered, the monks flew back, and the golden aura grazed their robes, landing on the Holy Fire Hall, leveling the majestic structure.
Seeing the monks airborne, Yang Ge leaped, casting numerous afterimages. In the blink of an eye, he covered the space between them, catching them off-guard with a flurry of slashes like a sudden storm, pulling them into his attack range without giving them a chance to counter with their Sound Attack Skill.
The monks, caught off-guard within Yang Ge’s barrage of slashes, did not panic. The black-robed old monk bellowed in anger, his already towering figure swelling like inflating, tearing his black robe and revealing a body glistening like solid gold with bulging muscles, meeting Yang Ge’s dense slashes head-on.
The Cold Moon Blade, striking him, only emitted a series of "clangs" as if metal striking metal, unable to even scratch his skin.
Meanwhile, the red-robed old monk behind held a prayer cylinder with hands clasped, emitting a faint Buddhist glow, conjuring an eight-armed white elephant, three yards tall, holding axes, tridents, Vajra Pestles, prayer cylinders, and other magical artifacts, all of which struck at Yang Ge simultaneously.
This onslaught of attacks had Yang Ge leaping and dodging frantically, retreating continuously...
In time, perched atop a towering pine tree a hundred yards from Bright Summit, wearing a leafy hat, Zhang Xuansu crouched among the thick branches, holding a half-eaten carrot in one hand, clenching his fist in the other, silently rooting for the monks: "Left hook, right hook, aren’t your legs meant for walking? Attack his lower stance! Yes, yes, just like that, keep hitting that disrespectful brat hard—crunch, crunch!"
Watching Yang Ge spitting blood from the monk’s assault, Zhang Xuansu grinned and took two big bites of the carrot.
...
Indeed, fighting alone against two hands with four was tough. After about forty moves, the black-robed monk exploited an opening, landing several punches on Yang Ge, who suffered internal injuries, disrupting his energy, forcing him to break the ground with a foot, leaping backwards for retreat.
As the monks prepared to pursue, they saw a saber-like aura cleaving towards them. Unable to withstand it directly, they had to give up the chase, jointly striking out a palm and shattering the saber aura.
Once he had created some distance, Yang Ge turned his head and spat out a mouthful of blood-streaked phlegm, took a few deep breaths, forced himself to calm down, and started devising a strategy to defeat them.
Head-on attacks wouldn’t work!
The two monks’ synergized Sound Attack Skill was virtually unsolvable.
Close combat was also futile!
The black-robed monk’s Vajra Invincible Divine Skill had almost reached a state of perfection, impenetrable without sufficient buildup.
What a perfect combination capable of both offense and defense!
’Eh, wait!’
Yang Ge’s mind raced, and then it struck him: ’Why focus on the hardy one in team fights and leave the frail controller free?’
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’But without taking down this tank, I can’t get close to the frail controller...’
Meanwhile, the monks, having gained the upper hand in close combat, slowly regained their confidence. The red-robed monk stepped forward, one hand raised, his voice booming like a bell, "Master Yang, they say it is better to resolve enmity than to deepen it. If you would forsake darkness for light, the Zhao Family can offer you much, and the descendants of the immortal heavens even more. Please reconsider, lay down your weapon and return to righteousness, Master Yang!"
As the red-robed monk spoke, Yang Ge paid him no mind; he thought hard and finally clenched his fist, deciding internally: ’If direct power hits won’t work, I’ll use a speed-focused approach. If I can exhaust these two old monks’ coordination, I’ll find a chance to eliminate that annoying frail controller. Once he’s down, leaving only the tank, he’ll be like fish on the chopping board for me.’
"Do you think you’ve won?"
Having made up his mind, Yang Ge chuckled, adjusting his boiling blood with his breathing rhythm: "No, the fight has just begun!"
As he spoke, countless shards of debris from the ruins of the Holy Fire Hall began to rise, converging behind him, glittering bright.
Seeing this, the red-robed monk shook his head in sad resignation, stepping back to stand behind the golden-robed monk, clasping his hands together. The eight-armed white elephant reappeared instantly. With a wave of its hand, a vast Qi Force repelled the overwhelming deluge of debris.