Wandering Swordsman |

Jianzhen's eyes were bloodshot, his inner energy surging like boiling water, his robes fluttering even without wind. He stared at Shen Mo, his eyes filled with the ferocity and madness of a beast whose prey had been stolen.

"Die!" he roared, his body moving like lightning, his right palm slashing out—

Before the palm strike even arrived, the shockwave was already like a blade cutting into your face! Shattered rocks rained down like rain!

Shen Mo did not respond directly.

He ducked low, sliding along the ground like a wild fox in the mountains, his toes barely touching the ground as he rolled, miraculously avoiding a fatal blow with a "lazy donkey roll" commonly used by street thugs. Amidst the flying dust, he grabbed a handful of pebbles and hurled them with a crude yet precise motion, striking Jianzhen's eyes directly.

Jianzhen, enraged, laughed: "A mere trick!" With a flick of his sleeve, the pebbles turned to dust.

He stomped his left foot on the ground and swept his right leg like a whip, creating a dark blue-green vortex!

Shen Mo leaped into the air, grabbing the vines on the cliff face with both hands. He swung like a monkey into the air, then used the momentum to push off, landing lightly like a hawk. His movements were completely haphazard, sometimes like a woodcutter chopping wood, sometimes like a fisherman casting a net, completely unlike orthodox martial arts, more like a haphazardly cobbled-together survival trick by a country bumpkin.

Ironically, these seemingly crude moves always manage to evade Jianzhen's deadly attacks at the last minute.

Jianzhen grew angrier and more suspicious the more he was beaten.

"Who exactly are you?!" he shouted sharply, unleashing a flurry of palm strikes that blocked all of Shen Mo's escape routes. "Why is your movement so unpredictable? Why does your martial arts lack any discernible pattern?!"

Shen Mo remained silent, dodging and weaving between the palm strikes.

The moonlight, as white as frost, spilled across the broken cliffs and rocks, casting two figures darting and leaping about. The wind whipped up fallen leaves and swirled sand and stones; each clash of fists and palms sounded like muffled thunder rolling across the valley, causing pine needles to fall in a rustling sound.

Shen Mo's movements were elusive, his footwork seemingly chaotic yet subtly employing the skill of climbing in the mountains and the cunning of capturing people in the marketplace. He never used a single trace of the sword intent of the "Heavenly Gang Sword Technique," nor did he draw upon even a wisp of righteous energy from the "Sunset True Qi," nor dared to reveal a single bit of Heavenly Demon True Qi—he simply used the most ordinary moves to maneuver amidst Jian Zhen's storm-like attacks.

Even so, his heart grew heavier.

"Although I didn't use my full strength, this person... was actually able to fight me to a draw?" Shen Mo's heart trembled slightly.

Jianzhen was only about the same age as him, yet he had already led all the evil cultivators overseas and become the God Emperor of Japan. Just now in the underground palace, he was able to snatch the relic from that sinful monk's hands. His movements were unpredictable, his attacks precise, and his timing ruthless, making him almost unfathomable. Now, in his rage, every move he made was deadly, forcing Shen Mo to pay full attention to deal with him.

"If I hadn't deliberately suppressed my strength, the battle would have been decided long ago... How could he have forced me to this point?" Shen Mo dodged while secretly assessing the situation. Jian Zhen's strength was beyond what could be described as mere "genius"; he truly possessed an unparalleled talent that could rival the Central Plains.

After thirty rounds, the two were still evenly matched.

Jianzhen's internal energy was as powerful as a river, and his moves became increasingly ruthless. His palm strikes were mixed with a chilling aura that could subtly erode his meridians.

However, Shen Mo had already noticed something amiss—beneath that ferocity lay a rapid depletion of true energy. Each time Jianzhen activated his evil technique, the veins on his forehead bulged more, and his breathing became increasingly labored.

"If we delay a little longer, he will surely be exhausted." Shen Mo had already made up his mind.

He had once considered killing him—to strike with a single blow from the very beginning, eliminating any future threat. But the thought was immediately suppressed. "No..." he thought to himself, if I go all out, I will surely expose the demonic energy. If I fail in one strike and he escapes with his uncanny movements... the consequences will be unimaginable.

If he were alive, he would surely spread the word about the "demonic sect members stealing the Shaolin relics." At that point, not only would overseas evil cultivators be considered enemies, but even the martial arts alliance might view me as one!

Thinking of this, a cold glint flashed in Shen Mo's eyes, but he still held back, continuing to maneuver with agile movements, like a spider entwining a butterfly. Seemingly powerless, he was actually taking steps one by one, quietly eroding Jianzhen's internal energy.

Finally, Jianzhen's attacks slowed down. His palm strikes were no longer as devastating as before, and the black energy showed signs of dissipation. He was panting heavily, and the anger in his eyes intensified, but it also revealed a hint of anxiety and madness.

"You...you coward! All you can do is hide?!" he roared, suddenly biting his tongue and spitting out a mouthful of blood mist. His hands formed a strange hand seal, and he muttered an obscure and difficult-to-understand incantation. In an instant, black flames erupted around him, and a cold, sinister aura burst forth from his body. His previously weak energy surged dramatically, even showing a hint of ancestral power!

Shen Mo recognized the move—it was an evil overseas technique that Duanhun Daosha had used before he killed Duanhun Daosha.

But as soon as the black flames ignited, for some reason, Jianzhen immediately showed signs of exhaustion, like a candle flickering in the wind, about to go out.

It's now!

Shen Mo's eyes narrowed, and the demonic energy within his body surged quietly. A faint blood-red light appeared on his fingertips—in just a moment, he could activate the Blood Shadow Technique and kill Jianzhen!

however--

Just as the demonic energy was about to burst forth from his body, Shen Mo froze!

Deep within his dantian, a vast and intensely powerful force, as blazing as the sun, suddenly exploded forth!

"boom--!"

The Buddha relic that he had swallowed suddenly dissolved at that moment!

The power of the relic, like ten thousand golden needles, surged from the dantian directly into the twelve regular meridians and eight extraordinary meridians. Wherever it passed, the meridians felt as if they were being scorched by fierce fire, yet also as if they were being showered with sweet rain. The Buddhist light and demonic energy, mortal enemies, now met head-on within his body—

The demonic energy surged like a black tide, instinctively wanting to devour everything; the Buddha's power shone like the golden sun, vowing to purify all evil!

Two completely opposite forces clashed violently within his body, and Shen Mo felt as if his internal organs were being torn apart.

"Damn it..." He gritted his teeth, cold sweat pouring down his face. "The power of the relic... is actually clashing with the demonic energy!"

"Ugh—!"

Shen Mo felt a sweet taste in his throat and spat out a mouthful of blood, which shone like red plum blossoms splashing snow in the moonlight.

He froze, staggered, and slammed his right knee heavily onto the gravel, kicking up a cloud of dust. Cold sweat poured down his back, soaking his black clothes and clinging to his spine, as if every inch of his skin was enduring the torture of hell.

In that split second of pause—

A fierce glint flashed in Jianzhen's eyes!

"Opportunity!" he roared like a wild beast, pouring the last wisp of his true energy into his right palm. Black energy swirled in his palm, faintly revealing a crimson glow!

"die--!"

A palm strike was unleashed with tremendous force!

Shen Mo struggled to raise his arm to block, but due to the internal conflict between Buddhism and demonic forces and the disordered flow of his true energy, his defenses were as fragile as paper. The palm struck his left shoulder squarely—

"Snap!"

The sound of the shoulder bone cracking was clearly audible!

The excruciating pain struck him like a thunderbolt, sending Shen Mo flying backward like a kite with a broken string, crashing heavily against the cliff wall, sending pebbles tumbling down.

A metallic taste rose in his throat, and he spat out another mouthful of blood. Stars danced before his eyes, and his consciousness nearly faded.