Zhang Yan only unleashed seven sword lights to face his opponents this time, not because he underestimated them, but because surrounded by enemies on all sides, he had to keep some countermeasures in reserve to defend against others.
Moreover, as the opponent’s flying needles assailed him, their clever techniques repeatedly struck from unimaginable angles, sparking numerous insights within him. This adversary was rare indeed; thus, he intentionally slowed his sword force, secretly observing the patterns of the opponent’s needle technique to compensate for shortcomings in his own swordsmanship.
Zeng Han, being highly experienced in combat, gradually sensed something was amiss despite Zhang Yan’s subtle maneuvers.
Though only a brief moment had passed, his opponent’s sword force had grown sharper and smoother compared to before, with traces of counterattacking moves woven into his defense. While these moves were held back, after several exchanges, the flow of his swordsmanship became increasingly profound and unpredictable, adding significant pressure on Zeng Han’s mind.
Zeng Han thought to himself, this isn’t good! If this fight continues, and Zhang Yan fully understands the variations of his needle technique, how will there still be hope for victory?
However, he had a method that could drastically increase the speed of his flying needles severalfold in a short amount of time. Though this method was difficult to sustain, should the needles penetrate within several feet of the target, the opponent would almost certainly have no chance to turn the tide.
Yet employing this method would result in him overusing his spiritual energy, leaving himself weak and powerless for at least ten breaths’ time. If attacked during this window, he would be utterly defenseless.
His thoughts raced, realizing that prolonging the battle would only work against him. With his fellow disciples nearby, he deemed the risk manageable, considered carefully, and made up his mind.
He immediately summoned his spiritual energy, forming a spell. The twenty-seven flying needles, driven by a surge of spiritual mechanism, suddenly emitted an intense green light. Their speed drastically increased as they tore through the sword net, charging toward Zhang Yan.
Zhang Yan’s eyes flashed. The velocity of these needles was exceptionally swift; relying on transformation sword escape might allow him to evade, but would surely place him at a disadvantage—being pinned down and pursued relentlessly. Refusing to accept such a situation, he let out a cold sneer, opting not to dodge. Instead, he pointed with joined fingers, sending the seven sword lights into the sky like rainbows, aiming directly at Zeng Han.
When Zeng Han saw Zhang Yan resort to such life-risking tactics, he was greatly shocked. Watching the flying needles about to strike Zhang Yan, he hesitated—should he withdraw now, all his prior efforts would be for naught!
Yet maintaining the needle’s trajectory would indeed kill Zhang Yan, but allowing the seven sword lights to reach him would also lead to his own death.
In this critical moment, his mind churned countless thoughts, but ultimately, he did not dare gamble his life. Hastily, he summoned the flying needles back to block the sword’s path.
But this was a rushed maneuver, causing one of the sword lights to slip through and arrive before him in the blink of an eye.
Zeng Han was just about to unleash a treasured herb, one roughly ten feet tall, as a sacrifice. Suddenly, he felt a void within his body. Seeing the chilling sword light descending toward his neck, he was instantly terrified, his spirit almost scattering, believing he was at his end.
At this moment, Zhang Yan suddenly sensed a gray light descending from above. Within his Ancestral Acupoint, the cluster of purple light pulsated violently, seeming as if it were about to burst forth. He abruptly raised his head and shouted toward the sky, "What vermin dares to appear? Show yourself!"
He pointed his finger, triggering a brilliant flash that struck within the void. A disturbance of mist followed, and two streaks of blade light—one black, one white—rose up and intercepted the sword light. The person hidden within the mist could no longer obscure himself, revealing his figure.
Shen Minggu’s face darkened; he had seen the two fighting intensely and acted decisively. He had commanded his Yin Slaughter Saber to strike Zhang Yan, planning to then finish off Zeng Han.
He had calculated his timing well and judged accurately, yet never anticipated that the Yin Slaughter Saber would merely circle over Zhang Yan’s head once, seemingly intimidated by something, before retreating. When he tried commanding it again, the saber outright ignored him, exposing his presence to Zhang Yan in the process.
However, Shen Minggu’s interference inadvertently spared Zeng Han. The sword light was slightly deflected, causing only a wound on his shoulder—a deep, bloody cut. Still, Zeng Han managed to survive, quickly retreating from the battle zone and taking out an elixir pill to consume.
Zhang Yan glanced at the two flying sabers and remarked, "I was wondering which hidden figure dared act so covertly. As it turns out, a disciple of Chongyue True Temple."
Shen Minggu’s heart burned with frustration. His expression grim, he said, "Zhang Yan, last time you challenged me, I happened to have urgent matters that forced me away, letting you roam freely for a while. But today, I’ll show you the might of my Li Yuan Flying Knife!"
"Oh? So you are Shen Minggu?" Zhang Yan sneered coldly, "If you want a fight, why cower and sneak around? Just make your move openly!"