Chapter 26: The Sword Qi Is Gone, but the Trump Cards Remain-Escolha uma de três opções diariamente e torne-se um Espadachim Imortal Supremo(Quatro Bolos)

"Hmph, you arrogant brat, you are merely courting death."

"This protective aura is something you could never hope to pierce."

Seeing Yang Le strike with his sword, the Gray Daoist did not retreat. With his protective aura shielding his body, he swung his horsetail whisk directly at Yang Le. Gathering his strength in his joints, he lunged forward, one hand striking toward the wrist that held Yang Le’s blade.

Though the whisk appeared soft and supple, under the infusion of the Gray Daoist’s released vital blood energy and his hardened aura, it became as rigid as steel. As it whipped through the air, it crackled like a coiling steel wire, emitting sharp, whistling sounds.

Confident in his mastery over his blood and aura, the Gray Daoist had no fear of close-quarters combat. Martial artists of the same rank would never dare to get so close under such conditions, yet Yang Le was merely a seventh-rank practitioner. Were he not a physical cultivator, this aura and blood energy alone would have been enough to shred an opponent, causing their mind to shatter and their meridians to burst until they died in a spray of blood.

"So this is the sixth rank."

Yang Le frowned slightly. This sixth-rank master was indeed trickier than he had anticipated. Yet, after only a momentary pause, Yang Le charged forward at the Gray Daoist once more. "It’s a pity, but I believe my sword energy is sharper."

In the next heartbeat, Yang Le unleashed the strike he had been brewing for so long.

Under the amplification of Yang Le’s sword intent, a dense, concentrated blast of sword energy erupted, taking on a tangible form as it surged toward the Gray Daoist’s throat. In the blink of an eye, the energy collided with the Gray Daoist’s vital blood. The thick, crimson mist pervading the air was instantly dispersed.

Yang Le’s sword energy did not weaken in the slightest; instead, it grew even keener. Then, it struck the protective aura. Without any resistance, the moment they touched, the semi-transparent barrier shattered with a sound like breaking glass.

The next second, Yang Le’s blade descended, slashing straight for the Gray Daoist’s neck.

"This boy!"

The Gray Daoist finally realized the danger. He scrambled backward, his whisk frantically dancing in the air as he tried to block the blow. But Yang Le’s sword was simply too fast. Left with no other choice, the Gray Daoist arched his back and rolled away, narrowly evading the fatal strike.

"A pity. Just a fraction too slow."

Watching a stray wisp of his white beard drift from the blade, a flicker of regret crossed Yang Le’s eyes. Had his sword been just a hair faster, the Gray Daoist would surely be dead.

***

"What strange sword energy. I thought the Great Qian lineage of swordsmen had long since turned to dust. I never expected to see such a promising sprout today."

"It is fortunate you possess no finer sword techniques; otherwise, I truly would have become nothing more than a pebble on your path to righteousness."

Yang Le’s sword intent had truly shaken the Gray Daoist. Before, he had dismissed it as nothing more than ordinary swordplay. But after experiencing it firsthand, he was stunned. The blade was sharper than he had imagined. Even with his vital blood and protective aura swirling around him, they had been sliced through by a single stroke. He had never expected such a thing. Had he not reacted quickly and possessed a cultivation level one rank higher than his opponent, it would not have been his beard that fell, but his head.

"I understand now how Lin Jingyu died at your hands. To fall to such sword energy is no disgrace."

"Even my blood and aura could not withstand your strike, but that must have been your final trump card, while for me, this is merely the beginning. Tell me, can you unleash such energy again?"

Shaken, the Gray Daoist felt a surge of irritation. He could not remember the last time he had been so disheveled. But thankfully, Yang Le had played his hand. That strike had spent itself, and he had yet to truly retaliate. "Had you caught me by surprise, I might have been in danger of death, but now, you are the only one who will die here."

With that thought, the Gray Daoist looked at Yang Le, whose breathing had grown ragged. He was already a dead man.

"Indeed, I cannot unleash that sword energy a second time."

Yang Le stood his ground, holding his sword with one hand. As he looked at the Gray Daoist, his internal energy wavered, and he admitted it—he truly could not cast that strike again.

A seventh-rank challenging a sixth-rank... it was indeed difficult. The protective aura, the blood energy that disrupted one’s spirit, and the ability to tear flesh from bone—without a matching strength to resist, one could not even get close. For the first time, Yang Le realized the substantive gap between the seventh and sixth ranks.

"Master, we are in trouble now."

Li Qier, who had been watching from the side, grew solemn. Her hand hovered over the grass talisman on her abdomen, ready to tear it at any moment. "No one below the seventh rank can withstand that sword energy, but this old man is a sixth-rank."

"Should we run?"

Yang Le glanced at her, ignoring her feigned casualness. He smiled faintly. "Disappointed? If you wish, running is an option."

"My leg is injured; I cannot run." Li Qier slowly stepped behind Yang Le. "Master’s sword was magnificent."

***

"Very well. Once I slay this old man, I will take you away."

With Li Qier’s promise, Yang Le fixed his eyes on the Gray Daoist. "I cannot unleash the sword energy again, but this old man can still be slain."

"A dying man, and yet you speak such nonsense?"

Seeing Yang Le and Li Qier still babbling, the Gray Daoist decided to waste no more time. He lunged forward, swinging his whisk. The blood energy condensed in the air, transforming into tangible, crimson filaments that blanketed the area, thousands of them weaving like a spiderweb. Though they were made of blood energy, they were reinforced with his aura, each thread as sharp as a steel needle.

"Die!" the Gray Daoist roared, his face twisted in a hideous mask of rage.

Li Qier had already peeled back half of her talisman, her eyes turning a faint, blood-red hue. She knew that if she did not act, her master would truly die.

But Yang Le merely watched.

"I said I could not unleash that sword energy, but I never said I lacked other trump cards."

"I said you would be slain by my blade, and so you shall."

Just then, his system trait refreshed.

[Breakthrough in Battle (Blue): While in combat, you may randomly select one of your existing traits to upgrade. The extent of the upgrade is randomized.]

[Congratulations to the host for completing the trait selection: Randomly upgrading trait: Sword Bone.]

[Sword Bone (Seven-Colored): You now possess the complete Spirit Bone of the Sword, accompanied by a glimmer of sword technique, Sword Extremity Nine...]

"This strike... will truly be your end."

In the next heartbeat, Yang Le struck again. A terrifying sword momentum instantly swept across the field.

Blood energy? Protective aura? Upon contact, they vanished into nothingness.

And this time, the Gray Daoist’s head was cleanly severed by Yang Le’s blade.