Keke! Fight properly, you family of hypocrites!"
The demon's hand flickered like a shadow, its claws trailing a dim, eerie glow. As it swiped, a streak of black light followed—silent, fleeting—yet the air itself seemed to shudder in its wake. A moment later, thin, stinging cuts appeared on their skin, burning cold with lingering darkness.
Linglong reacted first, her blade flashing as she twisted into a counter-slash. Steel met shadowed claw with a sharp clang, but an unnatural force surged through the impact. A web of cracks raced along the blade's surface before, with a sickening snap, it shattered at the point of contact. The recoil sent her staggering back, pain flaring across her arm as a thin line of blood welled up.
Yun struck next, her whip slicing through the air like a serpent. The leather cord coiled around the demon's wrist, tightening—
A pulse of black energy erupted outward.
The whip unraveled in an instant, its tip dissolving into fine ash. Yun's breath hitched as a dull, stinging pain spread through her numbed fingers.
Zhang gritted his teeth and braced himself, raising his longsword in a two-handed block. The dark claws raked against the metal, sparks flying as the impact forced him back several steps. For a heartbeat, it seemed like he had held—
Then, cold seeped into his grip.
A sharp, unnatural chill.
He looked down. Five thin, black lines had carved across his gauntlets. A breath later, with a soft hiss, the metal split open, shallow cuts blooming on his skin beneath.
A sharp taste of iron filled his mouth as blood dripped from their lips. The wounds weren't fatal, but that wasn't the point.
The demon wasn't even trying.
It laughed, the sound thick with ridicule. "What's wrong, geniuses? Already finished? How do you plan to take back your precious treasure now?" Its glowing eyes flickered toward Zhang. "Especially you, from the Divine Sword Sect. This was your sect master's treasure, wasn't it? A shame… looks like it's mine now."
Yun, Linglong, and Zhang remained silent.
How could they refute it?
Yun's whip was ruined. Linglong's arm was bleeding. Zhang's grip on his sword was weakening.
And worse than all that—
They couldn't trust each other.
Not with so many eyes watching. Not with opportunists lurking in the shadows, waiting for them to fall.
Zhang exhaled shakily, forcing the doubt down. "We need to coordinate. If we don't, we're dead. Trust each other—unless you two don't want to live."
Yun and Linglong locked eyes.
Trust? In this situation? When they could barely stand?
But what other choice did they have?
Linglong wiped the blood off her trembling hand. "Fine."
Yun gritted her teeth. "Just don't slow me down."
Zhang ignored the exhaustion creeping into his limbs and nodded. "Then move!"
Yun struck first.
Her whip lashed toward the demon's legs, aiming to restrict its movement. Linglong followed, her blade flashing toward its side.
For a brief moment, it seemed to work—
Then the demon's claws moved.
A blur of black light.
A pulse of crushing force.
Yun barely yanked her whip back before it was sliced apart completely. Linglong's strike missed by an inch, her balance breaking as she stumbled back. Zhang lunged to cover her, but the moment his sword met the demon's claws, a sharp, searing pain tore through his arms. His grip nearly failed.
We can't win.
The thought crawled into Zhang's mind like a whispering curse.
The demon didn't even look winded. Meanwhile, their movements were slowing, their bodies betraying them with every second that passed.
Blood dripped from Linglong's wound. Yun's fingers twitched from the sting of her ruined weapon. Zhang's sword felt heavier than ever.
And around them—
The crowd watched.
Hungry. Expectant.
They weren't just fighting the demon. They were fighting the vultures waiting for them to fall.
Linglong sucked in a shaky breath. "It's too fast… we're too slow—"
Zhang clenched his teeth. No. That wasn't it. It wasn't just speed. It wasn't just strength. It was something else.
Then, amidst the haze of exhaustion—he saw it.
A pattern. A gap.
Every time the demon unleashed a full-powered claw strike, there was a brief pause—a moment where its stance opened, just slightly, before it recovered. Too fast for someone alone to act on.
But if they timed it together—
"There!" Zhang's voice cut through the tension. "After it attacks! It overextends! That's when we strike!"
Yun's breath hitched. Linglong's fingers tightened around her blade.
A weakness.
A chance.
Now, they just had to take it.