Thunder!
Golden lightning crackled violently around Feng Luotian's body as he activated Pinnacle Flash Lightning, the electric discharge illuminating the crimson haze of the battlefield. Even as the oppressive weight of the Evil Typhoon threatened to pin him to the earth, the sheer explosive force of the lightning allowed him to surge forward toward Mao Quanzhou.
Relying on the combination of Pinnacle Flash Lightning and the kinetic foresight of Momentum Eyes, Luotian countered the atmospheric restriction. The two clashed in a blur of sparks and wind, exchanging blow after blow in a high-stakes melee.
Luotian moved with the grace of a storm, his strikes guided by a calculated rhythm that left Mao Quanzhou frustrated; while the vice leader failed to land a single clean hit to generate his cyclones, Luotian struggled to pierce through the swirling dark red wind barrier to deliver any meaningful damage of his own.
Meanwhile, the sharp snapping of thunder through the air jolted Tu Lingxi from her momentary stupefaction. Shaking off the distraction, she reached into her pouch with a steady hand, retrieving a single, delicate sakura petal and placing it beneath her boot.
///// [Void Jump]: The user can jump from anything without ricocheting or impacting the jumping ground. /////
///// [Petal Prance]: Increases the user's jump speed and jump force when jumping from a flower petal. /////
Without so much as a whisper of sound, Lingxi leaped. Her petite figure soared gracefully above the carnage, defying the heavy gravity of the red storm as she ascended toward the sky.
Upon reaching the apex of her flight, Lingxi retrieved a small, shimmering seed from her bag, holding it delicately between her thumb and forefinger. With a soft, melodic chant that seemed to cut through the roar of the wind, she activated her skill: "Thousand Sakura."
The seed pulsed with a radiant light before bursting apart in a dazzling shimmer, releasing a torrent of thousands of sakura petals that scattered through the air like a delicate, pink storm. Each petal glimmered faintly in the oppressive crimson light, floating effortlessly on the gale as they spread outward, forming a mesmerizing, swirling curtain that blanketed the entire area.
To the untrained eye, the skill seemed trivial—a flourish of aesthetic beauty that lacked the raw, destructive power one might expect in a life-or-death struggle between cultivators.
But for Lingxi, armed with her White Bolt Floral Rabbit bloodline, there was no better compatible skill in existence. Each floating petal served as a potential launchpad, providing her with a near-infinite lattice of movement. What appeared to the bandits as harmless decoration was, in truth, a web of absolute precision and agility.
Tu Lingxi wasted no time. With a sudden, explosive burst of speed, she leapt onto one of the floating petals, her foot barely brushing its delicate surface before the Petal Prance propelled her forward. From one shimmering petal to another, she moved like a streak of white light, her trajectory fluid, relentless, and entirely untraceable.
Her figure became a blur, a flickering ghost zigzagging through the sky to close the distance on Mao Quanzhou with breathtaking velocity. The petals seemed to obey her very will, each one positioned perfectly in the wind to act as a launchpad, drawing her spiraling closer to the eye of the red storm.
On the ground, the fierce duel between Luotian and Mao Quanzhou raged on, a discordant symphony of clashing steel and crackling electricity. Neither could gain a decisive upper hand; it was a stalemate written in sparks and blood-red mist.
Luotian was running out of time. Sustaining Pinnacle Flash Lightning had drained most of his Theríon, and the golden arcs around him began to flicker. He searched for an opening, but Evil Typhoon's pressure made every movement harder.
Mao Quanzhou's five Evil Cyclones gave him no respite. Momentum Eyes traced their paths, but perceiving the attacks didn't make it easy to evade them all. Gusts converged from different directions, forcing Luotian to pivot and adjust his footing constantly. Under Evil Typhoon's pressure, each dodge left him less room to avoid the next.
Thankfully, his extensive battle experience from a previous timeline acted as his anchor. Had he lacked those centuries of ingrained instinct, Mao Quanzhou's relentless attrition would have already claimed his life. Yet, after dozens of high-speed exchanges, a rare spark of frustration began to creep into his expression.
"Damn! This is troublesome," Luotian muttered as his boots skidded through the dirt. He still had a trump card, but he wanted to save it for a moment when it could decide the fight.
Then, suddenly, a voice rang out from above like a saving grace, cutting through the roar of the gale.
"Big Brother Feng, move out!!"
Luotian's eyes flicked upward to see Lingxi descending from the heavens, her silhouette framed by a swirling halo of sakura.
"About time, Little Sister Tu!" Luotian cheered, a grin finally breaking through his fatigue, his voice tinged with immense relief.
As a Five Fangs Fighter, Luotian's base speed within the suppressive field of the Evil Typhoon was simply too hampered compared to Lingxi's specialized agility. He had done his part, dragging the vice leader into a grueling stalemate and exhausting the man's focus. Now, he had no choice but to put his absolute trust in Lingxi to deliver the final, decisive blow.
Before retreating, Feng Luotian decided to leave Mao Quanzhou a parting gift. He ignited the last of his Theríon, launching a flurry of frenzied attacks that targeted the vice leader's weak spots with blistering, electric speed. Each strike was a sharp spark, forcing Quanzhou into a desperate, reactive scramble to defend and preventing him from sensing the silent predator descending from the sakura-choked sky.
"You annoying brat!!" Mao Quanzhou roared, his scholarly composure finally shattering into jagged shards of ego as he focused entirely on deflecting Luotian's relentless, thunderous barrage.
Once satisfied that the bait was taken, Luotian withdrew with a fluid step, flashing a cheeky, infuriating grin. "Good luck! Even with all your bluster, you can't take down one annoying brat. Hahaha!"
Casually waving over his shoulder, Luotian darted toward the edge of the red gale, his fingers digging into a pouch to swallow a handful of Moon Lotus Seeds. The cool, floral essence began to replenish his hollow Theríon reserves; he knew the obsidian chains wouldn't hold the true monster for much longer.
"Brat!! I'll kill you!!" Mao Quanzhou bellowed, his vision tunneling into a red haze of pure, unadulterated rage.
It was in that fleeting heartbeat, the exact moment Mao Quanzhou lost himself to his temper, that Tu Lingxi struck.
Descending like a fallen star, Lingxi's figure was a blur of motion. She plunged her dagger into Mao Quanzhou's back, the cold steel sliding between his ribs before he even registered the shift in the wind. The sting jolted the vice leader back to a terrifying awareness. His eyes widened in shock as he spun around, his hands clawing at the empty air—but Lingxi had already vanished, leaving only a faint, shimmering ripple where she had once stood.
A sudden, searing heat shot through the back of his knees. Mao Quanzhou's legs buckled as his tendons were severed with a twin hiss of steel, forcing him to crash to the dirt with a heavy, undignified thud.
Before he could scream, Lingxi was a phantom in motion once more. She leapt effortlessly from one floating sakura petal to another, each delicate platform providing the perfect mechanical launchpad for her Petal Prance.
Her speed was a physical weight, her form a flickering shadow that struck from every conceivable angle.
From one heartbeat to the next, her dagger danced—a series of shallow slashes and deep, biting stabs that left a map of crimson across Mao Quanzhou's body. He flailed wildly, his Evil Cyclones spinning uselessly as his eyes darted in a frantic, losing game of find-the-phantom. She remained unseen, untouchable, a ghost in a storm of her own making.
Despite the oppressive, leaden pull of the Evil Typhoon that reduced the rest of the world to a crawl, Lingxi moved as if the laws of physics were merely suggestions. Her agility defied the logic of the Seven Fangs skill, each strike delivered with cold, rhythmic purpose.
Mao Quanzhou's breath came in ragged, wet gasps as blood began to pool in the dust beneath him. His mind raced, a cold, oily panic creeping into his chest as he realized his ultimate skill had become his own red-tinted cage.
Luotian watched from a safe distance as his Theríon recovered. A smirk crossed his face. "No wonder she was so proud of her speed," he murmured. "She earned the right."
Finally, the bloodied and battered form of Mao Quanzhou collapsed heavily against the dry earth. The oppressive, crimson winds of Evil Typhoon began to thin and dissipate, the swirling gore-colored haze unraveling into the morning air. With the lifting of the atmospheric weight, the leaden pressure on the villagers' lungs vanished, and the frantic speed of the battlefield returned to its natural rhythm.
Tu Lingxi approached the broken figure of the vice leader, her boots crunching on the stained soil. She reached down, seizing a handful of his matted hair to wrench his head back, and pressed the cold, biting edge of her dagger firmly against his exposed throat.
"Tell your men and your leader to leave!" she demanded, her voice a sharp, icy sliver that cut through the fading roar of the wind.
Though Mao Quanzhou was drenched in a deep scarlet and looked barely recognizable as a man, his life force remained stubbornly intact. As a cultivator, his internal reserves granted him a physical resilience that far outstripped the limits of ordinary mortals.
"It's you all who should be surrendering your lives!" he replied, a crazed, wet laugh bubbling up from his chest as his eyes rolled back to fix on her.
"Do you want to die that badly?" Lingxi growled, her knuckles whitening as she drew the blade closer, the steel beginning to part the skin of his neck.
BOOM!!
A sudden, explosive burst of Theríon erupted from Mao Quanzhou's core, radiating outward in a violent, concussive shockwave. The raw crimson energy struck Lingxi like a physical battering ram, blasting her off her feet and sending her petite frame tumbling through the air for several meters. She hit the ground with a dull thud, her vision swimming in a disoriented daze.
The five Evil Cyclones that had been orbiting him shifted with a high-pitched, metallic whistle, converging on his mangled body in a blinding rush of motion. These swirling masses of energy wrapped around his open wounds like living, hungry serpents. Their crimson glow intensified to a searing brilliance as they sank directly into his torn flesh, the air hissing with the sudden intake of power.
In a horrifying display of regeneration, the deep gashes and shallow cuts across his torso began to knit and seal themselves shut. Torn muscles roped back together under the skin, and shattered bones realigned with the sickening, audible cracks of shifting stone. The blood that had soaked his garments and stained his skin evaporated in faint wisps of crimson steam, leaving behind nothing but pristine, unblemished flesh.
Before long, Mao Quanzhou stood at his full height, his injuries completely healed. The onlookers stared in stunned silence.
Tu Lingxi stared in absolute disbelief, her mind reeling as she struggled to push herself up from the dirt. The sight of the vice leader's unblemished skin was a nightmare made manifest. "What… What is he? An immortal?"
Mao Quanzhou smirked and brushed crimson steam from his shoulder, fixing his gaze on Lingxi. "Lass, who do you think you are? Trash like you could never hope to kill someone like m—"
Before he could finish, a hand flashed in front of his face.
In that infinitesimal split second, Mao Quanzhou's eyes widened to their limits. His pupils dilated in a frantic, losing race as his mind failed to register the displacement of space. There was no wind, no surge of Theríon, only a silent, absolute vacuum of motion.
Then, a sudden darkness consumed his vision.
The sharp, heavy sound of an object striking the ground echoed across the clearing—the sickening, wet thud of a severed head landing amidst an otherwise suffocating silence. The impact kicked up a small puff of dust that hung suspended in the sunlight.
"You spoke too much," Feng Luotian said coldly. He stood where the vice leader had just been gloating, his posture relaxed and his gaze distant.
The surrounding fighters froze, villagers and bandits alike staring at the young man. He had just decapitated a Seven Fangs Fighter before any of them could react.
A heartbeat later, the heavy, metallic crash of Mao Quanzhou's lifeless body hitting the parched earth shattered the silence, snapping everyone back to a stark, chilling reality.