usness, hiding the glint of calculation in her eyes.
A deep, eerie chuckle echoed across the battlefield. "Kekeke… Finally, the array is lifted again," a voice sneered, thick with confidence.
Zhang was the first to strike, his sword flashing as he unleashed a deadly arc of energy. Linglong followed suit, her saber slicing through the air in a swift, precise motion. Yun, her movements fluid and graceful, lashed out with her whip, its tip cutting through the wind like a serpent's fangs.
From the sidelines, a group of cultivators watched with calculating eyes.
"Look at those geniuses wielding rank 2 weapons like they're nothing. Do we really stand a chance against them?" a woman in blue robes murmured, her fingers tightening around the hilt of her blade.
"Don't be so quick to back down," a warrior beside her replied. His armor bore the scars of countless battles, his tone laced with cold determination. "We have eight late-stage rank 1s and two peak-stage rank 1s in our group. There are at least ten other teams watching and waiting for their chance to strike. If we hesitate, someone else will take the prize. Cultivation is all about risk. How do you expect to move forward without taking one?"
The woman fell silent, her expression unreadable. The others did the same.
A Past That Won't Die
"Keke, is this all they sent to fight me?" The demonic voice dripped with mockery. "Seems like that man's disciples are getting weaker and weaker."
But despite his taunting, the demon remained on high alert. He wasn't foolish—he knew these brats carried trump cards, even though he's a genuine rank 2 right now, it doesn't mean he's invinsible.
Zhang, unfazed, responded in a sharp, biting tone. "That time, my uncle defeated you. Now, you're nothing but a waste who fell to rank 2." He let out a soft sigh, as if genuinely disappointed. "This is why demons should be eradicated. Not only did my uncle spare you, but you betrayed him… and still lost? How laughably pathetic."
Linglong and Yun remained silent, but their weapons remained poised.
The demon's sneer didn't falter, but his eyes darkened. "Heh… Is that the story they told you? That your uncle saved me? That I was the betrayer?" His voice dropped, carrying a dangerous edge. "Humans really are full of hypocrites. They rewrite history to suit themselves."
Zhang scoffed. "You can only fool a child."
And with that, he launched his attack.
The Clash Begins
A sharp azure glow trailed behind Zhang's sword as he swung, the air howling like a dragon's roar before a crescent blade of energy surged forward.
The demon's eyes narrowed. He barely shifted his stance before swinging his own blade—a dark, claw weapon pulsating with eerie energy. The two attacks clashed, sending sparks flying, the shockwave rippling through the battlefield. Though the demon held his ground, he was forced to take half a step back.
"Not bad," the demon muttered, flexing his fingers around his sword's hilt.
His gaze flickered toward Zhang's stance, and something dark and amused crossed his expression. "So… even the technique you're using is his instead of your sect master's, huh?"
Zhang didn't answer.
But he struck again.
This time, Linglong and Yun moved with him.
Linglong's saber gleamed with fiery light as she lunged, her strikes swift, relentless, and precise. At the same time, Yun flicked her whip, the weapon coiling and snapping like a serpent striking its prey.
For the first time, the demon stopped talking.
Because even though he's clearly stronger, he still has to defend himself.
And the real battle had just begun.