Chapter 700: I Am the Final Victor

Streams of mana like flowing water overflowed from Luo Lekang's surroundings, gradually forming in the sky, attracting the wandering spiritual qi between heaven and earth to swarm forth, causing the winds and clouds to change dramatically. The commander and several cavalrymen who had been urging their warhorses forward at great speed suddenly slowed.

It was not that these few defeated troops slowed themselves, but rather because of the influence of his repeatedly cast upper-rank Mystic Spell: Moonfall; since this remnant force had just recently suffered an attack from this spell, although they did not lose their lives, they still sustained great harm.

Thus, under the shroud of this spell, they were immobilized, their initial charge gradually changing to the point where even moving a finger was difficult, as they struggled with all their might against the crushing restraint.

"You forced me to do this—you clearly know my strength, yet you endured a Moonfall strike head-on and still didn't flee, even daring to attack me; since you seek death, I will grant it……pfft!"

Luo Lekang's face twisted ferociously as he resentfully gazed at the distant defeated troops; before he finished speaking, a mouthful of blood spurted out, his complexion turned deathly pale without a trace of color, his whole body seeming to have aged ten years, and the continuous, uninterrupted use of the upper-rank Mystic Spell: Moonfall inflicted upon him injuries far from ordinary.

Just that.

Thinking that this remnant force had narrowly escaped his Moonfall strike yet did not flee and even dared to attack him—something even the elite of the Great Xia Court army could hardly achieve, only the pick of the pick could manage—he knew that if he did not deal with this remnant force, his only fate would be a dead end.

Once this remnant force charged up to him, with the close-combat skill they had shown against the Mystic Bird earlier, the battle techniques they employed would clearly be beyond what his ordinary spells could fend off.

Perhaps before long, the commander's spear would pierce his body and take his life.

He had not thought of fleeing without reason; it was merely that this cavalry, though heavy cavalry, rode extraordinary warhorses he suspected might be demonic beasts, their speed not ordinary, let alone their ability to nock arrows and draw bows. Having just cast a Moonfall strike, aside from his mana being fully replenished by a large quantity of medicinal pills, nothing else had fully recovered.

The spells he could now cast could exert at most about half of their peak power, and his ability to flee would surely be severely affected.

Even if he could outrun the remnant force's warhorses, he could absolutely not outrun their arrows; it would be better to give it another go.

Luo Lekang raised his head to look at the sky; the nearly formed full moon, though he could clearly feel his bodily injuries worsening, he saw in his peripheral vision the immobilized remnant force below the moon, their faces and eyes full of smugness. Yet when he saw that this remnant force clearly sensed the deadly danger, their faces showed not a trace of fear.

It was as if they bore the expression of one who regards death as a return home!

In the depths of Luo Lekang's eyes, a flicker of surprise could not be suppressed as he exclaimed in astonishment, "Just which sect trained these heavy cavalry to such a point, unafraid of death—could they be some cult that is neither human nor ghost?"

Having wandered the martial world for many years and seen all sorts of people, he had rarely witnessed anyone who, faced with death, showed not the slightest change in expression—even the famed death-warriors of rumor, who knowingly go to their deaths, still display some oddness in their countenance.

Fear of death is the norm for all living beings.

On the contrary, there are sects that not only do not fear death but actually regard it as a return home; disciples nurtured by such sects are without exception madmen.

Moreover, he knew that provoking such a sect would be a first-rate calamity.

Just that.

Luo Lekang recalled that from just now until now, even after suffering a Moonfall strike that left this heavy cavalry heavily wounded and turned into a remnant force, they had not given up but still attacked him; even if he abandoned using Moonfall again, this heavy cavalry would not let him go.

On the contrary, they were very likely to slay him personally, making his head their merit.

Furthermore, his repeatedly cast upper-rank Mystic Spell: Moonfall, which was nearing completion, would, if abandoned at a critical moment, bring severe backlash upon himself—originally requiring at most two or three months of rest, now doubled, meaning at least a year and a half might be needed for recovery.

He.

All the more impossible to give up!

Luo Lekang did not want to ponder which sect's private troops this death-defying remnant force belonged to; he only knew that if he did not deal with this remnant force now, his only fate would be death.

Luo Lekang watched the full moon plummet at extreme speed, admiring the remnant force below, hoping to see panic on their faces—but to his disappointment, as the moon was about to smash onto their heads, the remnant force not only showed no trace of panic, they raised their spears and employed battle techniques, attempting to dispel the descending moon.

"Death throes……"

Before Luo Lekang finished speaking, a heaven-shaking, earth-weeping explosion rang out, also causing the ground to churn as if an earthquake had struck; even the distant Heavenly Wolf Formation was affected, and in the next moment dust filled the sky, wave after wave of air surged ravaging like terrifying spells—fortunately Luo Lekang had prepared, promptly condensing a barrier of bronze walls and iron bars before him.

This novel you have

Crack!

Merely this barrier of bronze walls and iron bars–like mana shield could not withstand several waves of the surging air, shattering like a mirror; before Luo Lekang could react, he was struck by the raging blast, spitting a mouthful of blood, his whole body flung backward, flying a full ten-odd meters before he crashed heavily to the ground.

Originally his body had been gravely injured by the repeated use of the upper-rank Mystic Spell: Moonfall; after this blow, his wounds piled upon wounds, as if he had lost half his life.

Luo Lekang endured the pain of bones breaking all over his body, his whole body already soaked in cold sweat; with great willpower he took a bottle of high-grade healing pill from his Storage Ring, opened it—these valuable pills, each worth many spirit stones—and he poured the entire bottle into his mouth.

He downed two or three bottles of high-grade healing pills in succession!

Luo Lekang heavily exhaled a mouthful of turbid qi, his face showing a smile of having survived a calamity; on his deathly pale, bloodless visage it appeared especially eerie, but he paid no heed, instead straining to lift his head toward the blast's epicenter where dust still swirled in the air, his voice trembling as he declared triumphantly, "Fighting me, you're still too tender!"

(End of chapter)