Chapter 661: Cat Plays with Mouse!

Lu Zhanlian moved.

His hunched body straightened in an instant, like a bowstring that had been pressed for too long finally being released.

His right arm traced a fierce arc in the air, and when his palm struck down it carried a whistling sound as if tearing the air.

That whistling was sharp and piercing, making anyone who heard it feel their eardrums ache instantly.

That was the first strike of the Sha Po Lang Thirteen Swords.

The Sha Po Lang Thirteen Swords is a Heaven-level Technique, legend says it was a supreme art conceived by the founding Grandmaster of Tianzhou Martial Arts while watching a wolf pack hunt.

The blade intent is fierce and ruthless, striking like a wolf pouncing on prey, one move after another, each fatal.

If this art can be cultivated to the full thirteen strikes, it is said to sweep invincibly through its peers.

Lu Zhanlian has spent his life in arduous cultivation, reaching only the tenth strike, yet even the tenth strike's unleashed power can make peers cower in fear.

When the first strike was unleashed, a visible wave of air burst open in the atmosphere.

Lu Zhanlian's palm seemed to become an invisible blade edge, cutting toward Zhongcun's neck with a whistling wind.

Zhongcun squinted, lightly tapped his toe on the ground, and stepped back half a pace.

The wave of air swept past half a foot in front of him, leaving a shallow crack on the ground.

Lu Zhanlian did not stop.

His second strike followed immediately after the first, the blade motion even fiercer, bearing a resolve as if to cleave everything before him.

His foot left a deep imprint on the ground as he pressed forward toward Zhongcun.

Blade qi crisscrossed like an invisible net, forcing Zhongcun to retreat continuously.

"Good!"

Someone on the Stand couldn't help but shout.

Wu Tong clenched his fists, watching the white‑haired elder on the Arena advance step by step.

Seeing Zhongcun retreat under his blade motion, the pent‑up frustration that had lingered for over a decade finally seemed to find an outlet.

Lu Zhanlian's Sha Po Lang Thirteen Swords lives up to its name; the fierce blade intent can be felt even from several dozen zhang away.

Those blade qi traced marks on the ground, as if someone were carving characters on a Green Stone Slab with an invisible greatsword.

Third strike, fourth strike, fifth strike. Lu Zhanlian's blade motion grew ever more ferocious, his speed ever faster.

The Sha Po Lang Thirteen Swords' ruthlessness and domineering force were displayed to the fullest in his hands.

His white hair fluttered in the wave of air, his eyes glowed crimson like blood, and each of his strikes bore a hatred as if to tear Zhongcun apart.

Zhongcun kept retreating on the Arena, forced from the center to the edge, seemingly never getting a chance to strike back.

Dust swirled on the Arena, blade qi crisscrossed. The warriors and soldiers on the Stand rose excitedly, shouting "Good!" loudly.

Lu Zhanlian's onslaught was so fierce that everyone thought he was about to win.

Only Jiang Feng narrowed his eyes slightly.

His gaze never left Zhongcun, watching him retreat while his body's center of gravity remained in an extremely stable spot.

He instantly understood that Zhongcun wasn't unable to defeat Lu Zhanlian; rather, Zhongcun was draining Lu Zhanlian.

He hadn't been using full force at all; he was merely evading Lu Zhanlian's attacks in the most effortless way.

Each retreat was a calculated distance, each sidestep a judgment precise to the smallest measure.

The Sha Po Lang Thirteen Swords is indeed ferocious, but Lu Zhanlian's body cannot sustain it for long.

He is already old, his qi and blood waned, each strike consuming a great amount of vital energy.

And Zhongcun is waiting for the moment his qi and blood are exhausted.

Sixth strike, seventh strike, eighth strike…

Lu Zhanlian's onslaught remained fierce, but the speed of his strikes began to show a subtle change, slowing just a little.

That change was so slight that anyone without extremely keen perception would not notice.

But Zhongcun noticed.

The corner of his mouth twitched slightly at the instant Lu Zhanlian's eighth strike fell…

He did not retreat further, but stepped sideways.

As he stepped, Lu Zhanlian's blade qi brushed his side, and his curled finger flicked unintentionally.

The flick seemed extremely casual, like a cat swatting at a yarn ball.

But the force of that flick landed on Lu Zhanlian's left arm.

"Sss!"

A faint sound rang out, and a slit opened in Lu Zhanlian's left sleeve; blood seeped out, spreading a dark red stain on the gray fabric.

Lu Zhanlian's movement paused briefly.

But he did not stop; the ninth strike followed immediately, bearing an even more resolute determination as if to expend his last breath.

Blade qi exploded, a massive boom echoed in the air, and Zhongcun's figure, cornered in the Arena, was forced into a dead end, his hands crossed in front of him.

"Boom!"

That strike landed solidly on Zhongcun's crossed palms, producing a muffled thud.

Zhongcun's body slid back several feet, his feet carving two shallow grooves into the Green Stone Slab.

But he steadied himself, his squinting eyes lifting through the dust, the smile at his mouth deepening further.

"Old thing…"

"This strike is good. Just a bit old; if I were ten years younger, it would really make me feel a little pain."

Lu Zhanlian clenched his teeth and gave no reply.

He launched another strike, the tenth. It was his strongest strike, the limit of his cultivation in this life.

When that strike was unleashed, his qi and blood ignited in an instant, his entire aura soaring to an unprecedented height.

Blade qi gathered at his palm edge into a near‑solid beam of light, bearing a force that could tear everything, and slammed down fiercely toward Zhongcun's direction.

Zhongcun watched the blade qi press toward him, and the smile on his face finally contracted for a moment.

He stepped back one pace, his both hands tracing a semicircle before him, and a dark‑gray true qi surged from his palms, forming a shield that blocked in front of him.

Boom!

The blade qi collided with the shield, emitting a deafening roar.

The Green Stone Slab on the Arena shattered in a large piece under the impact, and fragments and dust splashed outward.

Lu Zhanlian's body was shoved backward by the recoil, stumbling two steps, a strand of blood spilling from the corner of his mouth.

His chest rose and fell violently, his Breath becoming rapid and heavy, and his crimson eyes held an indescribable emotion.

As the smoke cleared, Zhongcun still stood There.

His kimono was sliced by the blade qi, revealing the pale skin Inside.

A shallow red mark lay on the skin, the lingering force of Lu Zhanlian's slash.

But that was all…

Zhongcun lowered his head to glance at the red scar on his chest, remained silent for a moment, then slowly raised his head, looking at Lu Zhanlian.

The smile on his face vanished, replaced by an expression cold to the extreme.

"Old thing, your tenth slash isn't much either."

The moment he spoke, his body vanished.

His silhouette left a faint afterimage in the air, and in the next instant appeared at Lu Zhanlian's left side.

A palm silently reached out in the air, its edge stirring a fine dark‑gray qi stream that slapped Lu Zhanlian's rib.

Crack!

A sound of an extremely fine bone fracture.

Lu Zhanlian's body tilted sideways, and more blood surged from his mouth.

But he did not fall; he clenched his teeth, suppressing the pain, turned and delivered a palm, the blade qi whistling as it slashed toward Zhongcun.

Zhongcun was no longer There.

His figure reappeared at Lu Zhanlian's right side, another palm striking Lu Zhanlian's scapula.

Another muffled sound of bone misalignment.

Lu Zhanlian's blood flowed increasingly, his white beard dyed red, and the wounds on his body multiplied: five cuts on his left arm, three on his right shoulder, two on his back, one on his rib.

The wounds were shallow, yet his Qi and Blood drained rapidly, and his movements grew Slow.

The cheers on the Stand vanished, replaced by a suppressed silence.

Wu Tong sprang to his feet abruptly, his voice tinged with uncontainable anger.

"Zhongcun dog thief! You are shameless! You could Victory, why do you torture him like this!"

Zhongcun halted on the Arena, glanced at Wu Tong below, tilted his head, and showed an innocent expression.

"Torture? I call this sparring. You Xia Guo Martial Way, does it only permit you to strike, forbidding others to retaliate?"

"You!"

Wu Tong, breathing heavily, trembled all over, tried to rush forward, but was tightly pulled back by the people beside him.

Qiao Zhenyu stood There, watching the blood‑soaked yet still‑wielding‑blade old man on the Arena, his eyes reddened.

He could no longer endure, and lunged forward a step.

But before that foot touched the Ground, a cold Qi Mechanism Lock locked onto his body.

The Qi Mechanism Lock was extremely heavy, like an invisible Mountain pressing on his shoulder, forcing his motion to halt abruptly.

Chi Tian Yi Lang's voice came from beside, carrying a composure as if watching a play.

"So, General Qiao, trying to break the rules?"

Qiao Zhenyu's body froze There, he turned to look at Chi Tian Yi Lang's fierce eyes, at his still‑smiling face, his jaw clenched with a grinding sound.

But he did not move; he knew clearly that Chi Tian Yi Lang would not give him that chance!

He had just been able to use Qi Mechanism Lock on Chi Tian Yi Lang!

Chi Tian Yi Lang likewise could seize this opportunity!

On the Arena, Zhongcun stood opposite Lu Zhanlian, as if finally losing interest, gently shaking his head.

"Fine, let's stop here."

His toe brushed the Ground, and his whole form turned into a dark‑gray afterimage, dashing rapidly toward Lu Zhanlian.

"I will personally send you to Hell, to meet that waste Lu Yong!"