Living In Another World With A Farm Chapter 8395: Sneak attack (1)

Zhao Hai summoned Fu Ling back sooner, having noticed that the island Lord's words had already unsettled Fu Ling's mental focus. Should another opponent step up to clash with him afterward, Fu Ling risked failing to unleash his maximum power. For that reason, Zhao Hai had pulled him out. Fu Ling had secured a victory in his prior bout, earning him a chance to retreat and recuperate. He remained eligible for the ongoing tournament. Xiong Baoshan, however, had suffered defeat. Thus, he forfeited any further involvement in the fights. Pulling Fu Ling back proved essential to allow him recovery time and to steady his resolve.

These notions raced swiftly across Zhao Hai's thoughts. He then gazed toward the Alliance Army and announced in a grave tone, "Senior Brother Liu Qing, step into the fight this round!" Right after Zhao Hai's command, a yell erupted from his back lines. A form dashed ahead, launching from behind Zhao Hai and touching down in the empty sky.

Liu Qing stood around 1.8 meters in height, with a lean build and striking looks. He donned the usual garb of the Blood Slaughter Sect, appearing rather unremarkable. Yet, he gripped a lengthy sword in his grasp. This sword measured roughly three feet, featuring a slim, straight edge without any bend. Its point seemed keen and pointed. His face held a frosty demeanor. Paired with that sword, he exuded an air of formidable style.

Right then, a figure soared from the enemy forces. Clad in dark robes that shrouded even his features, this man positioned himself before Liu Qing, eyed him, and let out a chilly huff, "Let me test the might of your Blood Slaughter Sect's cultivation methods." With those words, he summoned a long spear into his hold. Clearly, this weapon suited close-quarters combat, unlike those that drew in yin spirits. The spear stretched over three meters, topped with side prongs and a piercing head ahead. It resembled a massive cross lance.

Liu Qing shot a glance at his foe and smirked, "You're from the Dark Ghost Sect? Fine, I'd love to check out what's unique about your Thirteen Exorcism Flags." Once done, he seized the sword with both hands, leveling it across his torso. He fixed a fierce stare on the Dark Ghost Sect practitioner.

Evidently, neither favored idle chatter. They skipped introductions and braced for combat. Still, nobody faulted them. With countless contenders in the mix, personalities varied widely. Some boasted their titles, others skipped it—nothing unusual.

The Dark Ghost Sect fighter, brandishing his oversized banner, eyed Liu Qing with a sneer, "I'd like to witness what's remarkable in the Blood Slaughter Sect's sword arts. Take this!" He then swung the banner forward in a direct lunge at Liu Qing. The thrust seemed plain, yet blisteringly swift. His frame shifted, and the banner nearly reached Liu Qing's position in an instant. Such velocity stunned onlookers.

A glint of icy resolve sparked in Liu Qing's gaze. In that tense instant, he twisted aside, slamming the sword's flat against the banner. Next, the blade adhered to the shaft and shoved it away. This technique felt basic—a smooth redirection many short-weapon users employed against longer arms.

The Dark Ghost Sect man grunted dismissively. He then vibrated the banner, flinging Liu Qing's sword outward. Pulling it back, the banner's crosspiece sliced toward Liu Qing's rear. Liu Qing angled his sword backward to parry the prong. But suddenly, the banner whipped upright, crashing toward the nape of Liu Qing's neck.

The banner now acted like a massive metal slab. Wind whistled as it descended. A solid strike would shatter Liu Qing's skull. Yet Liu Qing stayed composed. He dropped low, evading the blow. Simultaneously, he spun horizontally through the air, launching a double-legged kick at the Dark Ghost Sect foe.

The Dark Ghost Sect practitioner twisted away, avoiding Liu Qing's strike. Gripping the banner firmly, he swept it broadly at Liu Qing. The weapon's weight made it deadly—if it connected, Liu Qing might not endure. Naturally, Liu Qing evaded the assault. He pulled back while hoisting his sword for a downward chop.

This slash timed perfectly, clashing right at the spear's end. A sharp 'clang' rang out, piercing and resonant. His frame shook involuntarily, forcing three backward steps to regain footing. His rival fared worse. Though the foe's spear outweighed his sword, the sweeping motion misused its force against a thrusting blow. It couldn't match Liu Qing's precise hit. Unprepared for the savage accuracy, the man jolted like he'd been thunderstruck when the sword met his spear tip. Stumbling back six or seven paces, he barely steadied himself.

Liu Qing seized the opening without hesitation. He surged ahead, pressing the assault while his enemy struggled for balance. Though unsteady and off-kilter, the Dark Ghost Sect warrior still flailed his banner. But the tide had turned against him. Liu Qing unleashed his full sword prowess. This wasn't the Eight Forms of Bloody Battle, but another Blood Slaughter Sect style: the Eight Blood Lightning Strikes. This straightforward sword art emphasized few techniques but blinding speed. His blade moved like streaking thunder.

When mastered deeply, each stroke mimicked a thunderbolt—swift and adaptable, twisting abruptly or forking into myriad paths. Such a sword method excelled in velocity and versatility.

Still, Liu Qing hadn't attained that mastery. He grasped only the essence of pace, not the shifts in trajectory. Yet it sufficed for this clash. His opponent's extended weapon lagged in quickness, particularly this cumbersome spear. Whether he could weather Liu Qing's barrage remained doubtful.

Zhao Hai knew Liu Qing's sword style intimately. He recognized every renowned technique in the Blood Slaughter Sect, having studied and wielded them all. A mere look revealed the method at play. He understood it drained mana heavily, limiting its duration—especially at Liu Qing's level.

Should the foe repel this onslaught, he'd counter during Liu Qing's recovery, tipping the scales. But Zhao Hai saw the enemy's power matched Liu Qing's at best, hampered further by his bulky armament. Blocking the flurry seemed unlikely.

True to Zhao Hai's foresight, Liu Qing's relentless barrage exceeded fifty exchanges. The opponent faltered in defense, allowing Liu Qing's blade to sever his left arm. A agonized cry escaped the man, but Liu Qing offered no mercy. Twisting the sword, he beheaded the foe.

Both cuts blurred with speed. Even rescuers couldn't intervene. They watched helplessly as the Dark Ghost Sect man perished. Liu Qing halted his blade, glaring at the fallen warrior. With a cold snort, he claimed the enemy's weapon and spatial gear. Ignoring Zhao Hai's cue, he retreated to his ranks.

That prior surge had depleted his magical energy. Rest was vital. Lingering in battle risked a swift end against another foe. Remember, the opposition fielded elite talents, no pushovers.

As Liu Qing withdrew, a ghostly finger shot from the Alliance Army's lines, aiming at his exposed back. A voice boomed, "You sneaky pup, think you can flee after slaying him?" With the shout, another figure burst from the Alliance formation.

Though branding Liu Qing shameless, this attacker embodied treachery. He'd struck first, then spoken—pure ambush. Yet he dared accuse Liu Qing. The warrior hadn't anticipated such bold deceit amid the crowd. Unguarded, the finger neared his spine when a crimson digit materialized, clashing with it. A faint pop, and both vanished.

Zhao Hai's voice followed, "Doesn't this backstab shame the Heaven Crippling Sect? Senior Brother Liu, return. Who among you brothers wishes to spar with this Heaven Crippling Sect fellow?" Zhao Hai watched his adversaries closely, knowing their unscrupulous nature. Fair play wasn't their way. He'd stayed vigilant against tricks, and here one came—a covert strike. Anger didn't stir him; he'd foreseen it. No surprise there.

He wouldn't stoop to their level in retaliation. The Blood Slaughter Sect slew plenty but shunned such cowardice. That said, vengeance awaited—just more straightforward. Zhao Hai trusted whoever faced the Heaven Crippling Sect would end them decisively.

Sure enough, a figure leaped from Zhao Hai's rear. Short and wiry, he clutched a two-foot curved blade, its edge sharply hooked. Silent upon launch, he cleaved straight at the Heaven Crippling Sect disciple.