Mo Yanhong thought to himself without speaking, he drew his longsword and thrust it towards Mu Cheng.
A Sixth-tier Swordsman, in a small place like Cangshan City, could still be considered impressive, but it hardly matched his reputation as a scion of the Capital’s prominent families.
Under normal circumstances, Mu Cheng’s real combat experience from fighting to the death with Exotic Beasts would have made defeating him a piece of cake, but now, battered and bruised, barely able to hold his sword, Mu Cheng was obviously no match.
With a flash of the sword’s light, Mu Cheng’s weakly raised longsword was struck and sent flying by Mo Yanhong. The next moment, the cold longsword pierced his shoulder again, at the exact same wound.
"How ruthless!" Seeing Mo Yanhong’s merciless stab, everyone felt a bit of sympathy for Mu Cheng.
Mu Cheng trembled in pain, he couldn’t even let out a moan, but he gritted his teeth and persisted without falling down.
"I thought you were formidable, but that’s all there is, you are convinced now, right?" Mo Yanhong although had defeated his opponent with a single stroke, was aware that defeating a severely injured adversary wasn’t exactly honorable. Only by having Mu Cheng kneel before him like a dog to beg for mercy would he truly regain his dignity, so he said with a sneer.
"Ptui, with your little strength, you expect me to be convinced? Dream on!" Mu Cheng breathed heavily and swore through gritted teeth.
Seeing that Mu Cheng remained defiant even in such a wounded state further wounded Mo Yanhong’s pride, veins bulging in his forehead, he stirred his longsword violently.
"Crack, crack..." The sound of breaking bones resounded in everyone’s ears, and fresh blood sprayed out again.
"Are you convinced now?" Mo Yanhong roared with frustration and anger.
"No." Mu Cheng’s face was distorted with pain, but he still managed to squeeze out two words through clenched teeth.
"Good, good, let’s see how long you can last!" A sinister gleam appeared in Mo Yanhong’s eyes, and a burst of silver light erupted from his longsword, clearly preparing for a fatal blow.
"Stop!" The surrounding crowd could no longer bear to watch, shouting out in unison.
Though most of them had little to no cultivation, they knew enough from seeing rather than experiencing, which mattered.
Mu Cheng’s shoulder could be healed with the right Elixir, were it just fractured, but if Mo Yanhong’s thrust went down, his shoulder would completely shatter into fragments, leaving no chance of recovery.
For a swordsman, losing the use of his sword-hand meant the end of his life, crueler than killing him.
Setting aside right and wrong, Mu Cheng’s defiance and resilience had won their respect; no one wanted to see him meet such a tragic fate.
Mo Yanhong would not care about these insignificant people, much less stop because of their words. Seeing them actually siding with Mu Han, his fury deepened, and his eyes filled with even more hostility.
Just as Mo Yanhong was about to cripple Mu Cheng, Wu Qiuyun finally mustered the last of his strength, leaped from the ground, and fiercely threw himself at Mo Yanhong.
"Hmph, another masochist, you’ll have your turn in a moment." Mo Yanhong obviously didn’t take the exhausted Wu Qiuyun seriously, and spoke viciously as he kicked out.
The kick hit right in the chest; Wu Qiuyun let out a muffled groan and flew backwards, vomiting blood before he even hit the ground, evidently severely wounded. ɴᴇᴡ ɴᴏᴠᴇʟ ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀs ᴀʀᴇ ᴘᴜʙʟɪsʜᴇᴅ ᴏɴ Nov3lFɪre.ɴet
If not for Mo Yanhong having a slight concern for the Wu family, that kick could have easily taken his life.