Chapter 914: Two Hundred and Eight: Fight to the Death
Chapter 914: Chapter Two Hundred and Eight: Fight to the Death
Gadhar looked at the crazed Dong Zhi rushing towards him and spit disdainfully. With a flick of his toes, he brought the short axe into his hand. The blade traced a semi-circle from below upwards, perfectly blocking Dong Zhi’s curved sword’s downward strike.
Generally speaking, a downward strike is usually stronger than one from below, especially when Dong Zhi attacked in anger, his strength three parts fiercer than usual.
But the gap in their cultivation was too great, coupled with the fact that the skinny lad was malnourished, his seemingly fierce strike was not only parried by Gadhar’s short axe, but its blade also lifted him up and violently threw him onto the ground at a distance, kicking up a storm of snow and dust.
“Ptui,” Gadhar spat again, resting the short axe on his shoulder, disdainfully saying, “With your pathetic knife skills, you think you can cross swords with me? Just hand over the woman quietly, and I’ll spare your life!”
“Cough!” Dong Zhi coughed up a mouthful of blood and wiped his mouth before standing up. With a rotational move, he sheathed his curved sword back into the scabbard at his waist. His left hand held the scabbard while his right gripped the hilt, positioning himself in an ancient sword-drawing stance, his eyes as sharp as an eagle’s and full of determined coldness.
From Gadhar’s recent words, Dong Zhi discerned the most crucial piece of information: his clever sister must have hidden in the secret tunnel for storing grain and water when Gadhar broke the lock, and she was unharmed. This realization instantly restored his calm.
The brief exchange had made it clear to Dong Zhi that Gadhar was the strongest opponent he had ever encountered, far surpassing him in both strength and technique. His own incomplete sword art, filled with stances but lacking moves, meant that his only hope for victory lay in the sword-drawing technique he had comprehended. Perhaps he could turn defeat into victory.
Dong Zhi’s solemn and murderous air put some pressure on Gadhar, but, confident in his overwhelming cultivation level, he of course did not take a green youngster seriously. Still, his inherent cunning prompted him to look for advantages beyond mere moves.
Gadhar continued to provoke with idle talk while approaching Dong Zhi with a frivolous step, adjusting his angle, but no matter how hard he tried, Dong Zhi remained utterly composed, his eyes fixed steadfastly on Gadhar’s neck.
The distance between them closed, and suddenly Dong Zhi lunged forward with the speed of an arrow, his waist-curved sword flashing out of its sheath like a shooting star across the sky. Gadhar barely managed to move his short axe to his neck at the first sight of Dong Zhi advancing, but as the curved sword was drawn, a flash of Spiritual Light moved the blade down a foot, clumsily blocking the white streak.
It turned out Dong Zhi’s aim at the throat was a feint; his true target was Gadhar’s chest. However, cunning was no match for raw cultivation; the lightning-fast curved sword was still blocked by the axe blade, and Gadhar’s angry kick struck true to Dong Zhi’s chest.
“Clang clang clang.”
The curved sword fell to the ground, and Dong Zhi was sent flying three zhang, crashing heavily and spitting out a mouthful of blood.
Having just skirted the brink of death, Gadhar wiped the cold sweat from his forehead, picked up the curved sword, and sneered at the struggling Dong Zhi, “Such a young age, and already so treacherous and ruthless. If I let you grow for a few more years, even I might not be able to handle you. But today, you’re doomed for sure. Not even the Asura God can save you!”
From the moment Dong Zhi killed the young man at the door and burst into the room, to the point he was thrown out by Gadhar, and their life-and-death struggle, it was all but a dozen breaths in time. But the two men, with eyes only for each other, seemed to forget there was another person present—Tang Luo, dressed in a Star Robe with a Gou Chen Mask, growing impatient.
He had thought that this youngster named Dong Zhi must have trained a decent sword technique, enough to handle the middle-aged man at the peak of the Mortal Realm, but who could have guessed this kid had nothing but posture, slashing wildly like a beginner, no different from someone just learning. As a swordsman, he couldn’t even hold onto his own blade, and that sword-drawing technique of his looked like some half-baked trick learned from a rough-and-tumble master. Watching such juvenile play-acting at life-and-death was intolerable.
Martial arts had flourished for a thousand years in the Mortal Realm, yet there were still places within the Human Race where martial arts were so backward. Wasn’t this a joke?
“Can you still stand up?”
An impatient Tang Luo finally spoke, his hoarse voice startled Gadale, who turned his head only to feel his legs go weak, and his weapon clattered to the ground. Gadale knelt, shivering as if he were a lamb that had seen a tiger or a leopard.
Dongzhi turned to look at the masked figure, then back at Gadale, who was kneeling three meters away. A decisive glint flashed in his eyes. He staggered to his feet and lurched towards Gadale.
Of course, Gadale heard Dongzhi’s movements, but in front of Tang Luo, he didn’t dare move an inch. The events that had unfolded in the tavern had sapped all of his courage. In his eyes, the tall, thin man donning the Gou Chen Mask was a demon that only an Asura god could match, and he couldn’t muster the will to resist.
Dongzhi stumbled over to Gadale, snatched the curved saber from the ground, and slashed towards his neck; but at the critical moment between life and death, Gadale once again overcame his fear. He grabbed the hand axe and swung upwards. Before the curved saber could chop down, his axe was sure to split his opponent open, at worst, he’d get his shoulder sliced.
However, as soon as he picked up the axe, he was frozen by a powerful spiritual pressure that seized his soul, leaving him immobile as if he were encased in ice. He struggled to lift his gaze, only to meet the cold, indifferent eyes behind the Gou Chen Mask.
The curved saber sliced cleanly through, blood spurted from the neck, and the only things left on Gadale’s severed head were resentment and indignation.
Having taken care of Gadale, Dongzhi seemed to have settled a heavy burden, and collapsed heavily to the ground. He propped himself up with the saber, took a couple of deep breaths, then scrambled into the house and flipped up the floorboards, revealing a dark, hidden cellar underneath.
Suppressing the blood rushing to his head, Dongzhi called out softly, “Ah Mei, Ah Mei, it’s safe now, you can come out.”
Sanglu, who had been hiding in the dark cellar, clutching a short dagger anxiously, couldn’t help crying when she heard her brother’s voice. Tossing aside the dagger, she crawled out of the cellar. Seeing her brother’s bloody face, she hurriedly pulled out a handkerchief and asked with concern, “Big brother, what’s wrong with you?”
“It’s nothing, I just got a little hurt when I killed the two robbers,”
Dongzhi said nonchalantly, as if killing Gadale was as easy as waving his hand.
Men always like to show their strength in front of their family and never speak a word about their hardships or brushes with death.
Just as the siblings were feeling relieved, a third voice suddenly echoed in the room.
“So, this is the thing you value more than your own life, huh.”
What do you think?
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