Douluo Dragon King: Here we come! Golden Dragon King!

The scythe came down, and Wu Changkong parried with his sword.

With a sudden jolt of his wrist, the Heavenly Frost Sword nearly slipped from his grasp.

He was forced back two steps by the pressure before he could barely regain his balance.

"Your sword is very fast."

"But speed is useless, do you know why?" Ye Mo's voice came from behind the sickle.

Wu Changkong did not answer. With a flick of his wrist, the sword slashed diagonally upwards along the blade of the scythe, aiming directly at Ye Mo's fingers that were holding the knife.

Ye Mo used his scythe to draw an arc, deflecting the sword's edge.

"Because your sword has no root."

"Every sword strike is fleeting; you have no faith, no home."

You're just swinging your sword.

Wu Changkong's eyes suddenly sharpened. He took a step forward, and the Heavenly Frost Sword transformed into a cold light that pierced straight into Ye Mo's chest.

Ye Mo dodged to the side, and the scythe swung up from below.

"The Holy Spirit Cult can give you roots."

"With your talent, if you join my Holy Sect, you will surely surpass the Four Heavenly Kings in the future."

What do you want? Power? Status? Or a reason worth drawing your sword for?

"For whom do you wield your sword?"

"For whom do you use your power? What is the purpose of your life?" Ye Mo's scythe fell one blow after another, each strike accompanied by a question.

Wu Changkong blocked the attack and took a step back.

His sword was still fast and accurate, but his breathing was erratic. This was not due to physical exhaustion, but rather to mental turmoil.

I know someone.

"When she joined the Holy Spirit Church, she was just as confused as you are."

She loved a man deeply, but that man didn't love her.

She couldn't find meaning in her life until the Holy Spirit taught her.

"You also have someone you can't let go of, right?"

Wu Changkong's sword paused for a moment, just enough for Ye Mo's scythe to leave a bloody mark on his left shoulder, the blood slowly seeping in.

Wu Changkong took two steps back, clutched his shoulder, breathed heavily, and his eyes were bloodshot.

Is this the end of the road?

Don't you want to avenge her?

Is this all there is to it?

He saw Tang Wulin crouching far away behind the ruins.

What will happen to the child if he dies?

If he were to fall here, the six-year-old child who had just become his disciple would be all alone, targeted by the Holy Spirit Cult, and parasitized by the monster inside his body.

Who will protect him?

No.

We can't just let this go!

Soar through the sky! Soar through the sky! Stand up!

Wu Changkong raised his head.

Ye Mo was swinging his sword, his movements still free and easy, his expression calm, already prepared to receive Wu Changkong's retreat after another parry.

He saw Wu Changkong's eyes, and those eyes no longer held confusion or sorrow.

A surge of soul power far exceeding any of Wu Changkong's previous outbursts suddenly spread from his body.

The surrounding rubble was whipped up by the blast wave and flew through the air.

The cold air expanded outward from him, and a layer of white frost condensed on the railway tracks. Even the black flames drifting in the air were frozen into tiny black ice crystals at this moment.

Seven spirit rings rose from beneath his feet, slowly rotating around his blood-stained white robes.

The seventh one!

The newly formed spirit ring shone brightly in the moonlight!

Ye Mo's scythe stopped in mid-air.

"A breakthrough?"

He tilted his head, a surprised expression on his pale face.

"Interesting, breaking through the level 69 bottleneck at a time like this."

It seems my words just now actually helped you.

Wu Changkong did not answer, but looked down at his hands and the cold air flowing on the Heavenly Frost Sword.

Seven rings.

He finally crossed that threshold, needing only one answer, one answer to protect!

Protect the child who is watching him from behind the ruins!

He raised his head, holding the Heavenly Frost Sword horizontally, its tip aimed at Ye Mo's throat.

"Again."

The two moved at the same time, and this time, Wu Changkong did not retreat.

The chill emanating from the Frost Sword was several times stronger than before, and each strike left a lingering icy trail in the air.

With a seven-ring Soul Saint and a two-word battle armor, his strength has already stepped into the threshold of a Title Douluo.

His martial soul quality and battle armor quality are both superior to Ye Mo's.

Ye Mo's expression changed when he blocked the first sword strike.

Because this sword strike is unlike any of the previous sword strikes!

Although Wu Changkong's swordsmanship was fast and accurate, each strike was tinged with hesitation.

Hesitation stems from a lack of direction, and without direction, there is no strength.

Things are different now. Now his sword has roots!

With the second sword strike, Ye Mo took a half step back.

With the third strike, his scythe was jolted high into the air, leaving him wide open.

Wu Changkong thrust his sword straight forward, the tip of the Heavenly Frost Sword piercing through Ye Mo's protective soul power, leaving a bloody hole in his right shoulder.

Ye Mo grunted, his scythe sweeping out to force Wu Changkong back. He used the recoil to retreat three steps, clutching the wound on his shoulder and panting heavily.

He squinted at Wu Changkong, his eyes no longer showing the ease and composure he once had.

He began to take this opponent seriously.

The two clashed again.

The sickle and the longsword clashed in the night, each collision sending out blinding sparks.

But Ye Mo became increasingly alarmed as the fight progressed—Wu Changkong's soul power not only did not diminish due to the continuous release of soul skills, but instead became increasingly solid.

His sword had a texture he had never seen before, a density formed by the compression of cold air to its extreme!

Ye Mo immediately realized what it was.

Soul core? !

This guy actually condensed a soul core during battle?!

Ye Mo has lived for so many years and has seen many people break through in battle, but he has never seen anyone start condensing a soul core immediately after breaking through to the seventh ring.

This means that the opponent's soul power is transforming from a liquid to a solid state, and both its reserves and recovery speed will undergo a qualitative change!

A Soul Saint who had just broken through to the seventh ring and already had the rudimentary form of a Soul Core, and an opponent whose Martial Soul quality and Battle Armor quality were both superior to his own.

Ye Mo quickly calculated the odds of winning in his mind, and the conclusion he reached made his pale face turn serious for the first time.

He might lose if he doesn't go all out.

If he loses, the Dark Phoenix will be watching from behind, and his earlier statement, "still as sharp as ever," will become a joke!

Do not!

Ye Mo swept his scythe horizontally, creating an opening, and quickly reached into his robes with his left hand.

The ancient Ganoderma lucidum still lay peacefully in the brocade box.

As long as he takes it, his chronic illness will be cured and his strength will be restored to its peak!

By then, this kid who just broke through will be nothing to worry about!

The moment his fingers touched the storage ring, a cold light pierced right in front of him.

Wu Changkong didn't give him that chance, so Ye Mo had to pull back his left hand and use both hands to grip the sickle and block.

The sword pierced the blade of the sickle, and Ye Mo used the force to drift backward, creating more distance between himself and the enemy.

But before he could even get his footing, Wu Changkong arrived again!

The tip of the Frost Sword was always chasing his throat, each attack precisely cutting into the gaps in his attempts to retrieve the medicine, giving him no room to breathe!

Ye Mo's breathing became increasingly rapid. Years of chronic illness had accumulated a lot of blockages in his meridians, and every time he exerted his soul power to the fullest, these old injuries would be aggravated.

He was fine when he was suppressing the opponent before, but now that he is forced to fight with all his might, his old injuries are flaring up faster than he expected.

He has to find a way.

Ye Mo's gaze swept quickly across the battlefield.

He saw it; behind a pile of shattered luggage at the edge of the battlefield, a boy was crouching.

The boy was staring intently at the battlefield, his mouth slightly open and closed, as if he were talking to someone.

Ye Mo didn't know the boy, but he bet that the boy would protect him.

With the plan in place, Ye Mo swung his scythe fiercely, forcing Wu Changkong back half a step, then turned and rushed towards the boy at top speed.

Wu Changkong immediately realized his intention and moved as well, drawing a long arc and transforming into a streak of light as he chased after Ye Mo.

But it was too late!

Ye Mo moved first, and his speed was ridiculously fast when he unleashed his full power!

He was already closer to Tang Wulin than Wu Changkong!

Tang Wulin was crouching behind the ruins when he looked up and saw a pitch-black scythe rapidly enlarging in his field of vision.

Wu Changkong's shouts came from afar:

"Tang Wulin!"

That's too late!

The next second, Tang Wulin felt a cold, large hand grip his neck.

The hand was incredibly strong, lifting his body directly from behind the rubble.

His feet left the ground, and his breath was instantly cut off.

He struggled desperately, grabbing the wrist of that hand with both hands to try to pry it open, but the hand was as immovable as if it were made of iron.

Ye Mo grabbed Tang Wulin by the neck and lifted him into the air.