Lin Dongming focused his gaze and saw a small black sword.
After hitting the ground, it dissolved into a swirl of smoke and vanished.
At the same time, a graceful figure descended from the sky. It was clear she hadn’t fully evaded the sneak attack.
“…Purple robes and white clothes, you’re from Wenxin Tianzong?”
Lin Dongming caught Mo Qingxue in his arms and noticed faint traces of thunder energy lingering on her.
“So that’s it, using Lei Gang to attack,” Lin Dongming glanced at the black figure hovering in midair, surrounded by numerous Thunder Dragon Xuanting’s Lei Gang.
Because of his practice in Thunder Absorption, Lin Dongming’s research into thunder techniques had advanced. He released an improved version of the Liaoyu Spell, and Mo Qingxue quickly regained her mobility.
“Sorry to disappoint,” Mo Qingxue said as she landed and barely managed to move. Clearly, her injuries weren’t as severe as White Zhiqing’s.
The sensation of soft jade pressed against her chest was still vivid, but this was clearly not the time for romance. Lin Dongming frowned and said, “Fellow Daoist, you should be at the Jiedan Late Stage, right? How much strength can you still muster?”
Mo Qingxue was secretly impressed by how calm he remained in the face of a strong opponent despite his grave injuries.
“Unfortunately, I’d say I’m only at half my strength, and that’s already quite good.”
Lin Dongming had only been pierced by one small black sword, but she had been ambushed by countless hidden weapons simultaneously, eventually crashing into the Lei Gang left behind by Thunder Dragon Xuanting.
If she hadn’t seen Lin Dongming and White Zhiqing severely electrocuted and taken precautions, she probably would be lying on the ground like White Zhiqing now.
“The opponent is at Jiedan Late Stage. It seems the two of us have little chance tonight.”
A Jiedan Late Stage cultivator at half strength plus a Jiedan Early Stage cultivator at less than half strength trying to take on a fully-fledged Jiedan Perfection opponent — just thinking about it made Lin Dongming’s scalp tingle.
“Call for reinforcements!”
Mo Qingxue waved her long sleeve, sending a brilliant streak of light flying from her cuff. But before it could explode in midair, the light was sliced apart by a black sword and vanished into the wind.
“It’s useless,” Lin Dongming shook his head and assumed a sword stance.
“The enemy probably won’t even give you time to write a character. I’ll hold the front line; you strike when you see an opening.”
Mo Qingxue hesitated. “But are you sure it’s okay? Can your heavily injured body withstand his attacks?”
The difference between Jiedan Perfection and Jiedan Early Stage was at least two sub-levels.
“No problem. This isn’t my first time dealing with Lei Gang. My body’s somewhat accustomed,” Lin Dongming said, standing beside Mo Qingxue as he casually unleashed a Swordwind.
“Overestimating yourself,” the black-clothed man said, and the small black sword before him rapidly split into hundreds of sharp weapons, firing fiercely toward the two of them.
“Tch.” Lin Dongming snorted coldly. His longsword danced rapidly, managing to protect a small area in front of Mo Qingxue without a single gap.
—Impressive swordsmanship. Looks like he’s not just talk. His original strength probably isn’t much weaker than Xiangjun’s.
While Mo Qingxue admired silently, her hands were busy as well. She swiftly wrote the character Zhanzì with her brush, which transformed into a beam of sword energy shooting toward the black-clothed man.
But the sword energy hadn’t traveled far before it was worn down by the swarming black swords.
“A clever tactic,” Mo Qingxue muttered, popping a Yuan Nurturing Pill into her mouth. “Since that’s the case, try this!”
She casually wrote a Fuzì character and shot it at the black-clothed man. This time, the Fuzì flew for a shorter distance before encountering another barrage of black swords.
However, unlike the Zhanzì, the Fuzì wasn’t immediately worn down. Instead, it transformed into golden ropes that bound many of the black swords together, then continued flying toward the black-clothed man.
It was like a massive golden net, descending across the sky.
“Interesting,” the black-clothed man gripped the core of the black sword in his right hand and slashed at the golden net. The net stretched and stretched upon contact but eventually snapped under the black sword’s blade.
“As expected of Wenxin Tianzong…” Before he could finish speaking, a figure dropped from the full moon, and a dazzling sword light shattered the darkness.
“Bastard!”
The black-clothed man hurriedly raised the black sword to block, sparks flying from the blade.
Lin Dongming curled the corner of his mouth.
Another sword light appeared from nowhere, slashing across the black-clothed man’s chest.
“!?”
The black-clothed man staggered back explosively, but a deep bloodstain still marked his torso from neck to waist, shocking to behold.
If he had retreated a moment later, he likely would have been decapitated.
“…Impressive,” the black-clothed man admitted. “So you use twin swords. Your earlier act was convincing.”
Lin Dongming landed beside Mo Qingxue and sighed with regret. “Such a pity. Just a bit more…”
Mo Qingxue was stunned. “…Are you really injured?”
The speed and decisiveness of that last sword strike, the precise timing, and the finesse of the second sword all didn’t seem like the work of a wounded man.
If that was his injured state, the full-strength Lin Dongming wouldn’t have let his opponent escape.
“Of course I’m hurt,” Lin Dongming rolled up his sleeve, revealing a charred patch of skin with some wounds still oozing blood. “Otherwise, what do you think this is?”
Mo Qingxue’s eyes widened. “That’s a severe injury.”
“Obviously,” Lin Dongming grumbled. “Otherwise, I wouldn’t be getting pushed around by some little demon lord like this.”
“Oh, right,” Lin Dongming suddenly remembered something. “Keep the secret about my twin swords, okay? I’m counting on them to win the Sect Competition.”
“…Fine,” Mo Qingxue sighed. To her, this kind of surprise attack might be acceptable against Modao, but using it against the Orthodox Dao and fellow disciples felt somewhat underhanded.
“Your duel was truly spectacular. I didn’t expect such performance despite your injuries,” the black-clothed man lightly applauded.
“If not for the division between the Orthodox Dao and Modao, I’d sincerely invite you both to visit Hehuan Sect.”
He paused. “No, even with the division, you’re still welcome at Hehuan Sect. I will personally entertain you.”
Lin Dongming sneered. “Cut it out. If you’re going to be so coy, fine. But now you’re even falsely claiming your own sect?”
The black-clothed man’s interest was piqued. “Oh? Why do you think I’m lying, fellow Daoist?”
“Your black sword,” Lin Dongming lifted his chin.
“It carries the Soul-devouring Blood-sucking Grand Method from Shihungu, capable of draining both blood and spirit power simultaneously. The people of Hehuan Sect don’t use that technique.”
“Oh? Seems you know quite a bit about both Shihungu and Hehuan Sect. Could it be you’re one of us Modao?”
The black-clothed man smiled slyly.
Mo Qingxue glanced sideways, her expression equally puzzled.
Lin Dongming rolled his eyes.
“You’re useless at everything but spewing nonsense. The Orthodox and Modao have clashed for so many years. If you didn’t know something this basic, you’d have been ground to dust long ago.”
“Hahahahaha!”
The black-clothed man laughed heartily. “I see you two have struggled with injuries in your fight. How about this—give me the disciple who fell, and I’ll let you off today. How’s that?”