What?
Nobody could’ve convinced Luo Ming someone so savvy at fighting existed until today. From the moment they commenced, he was unable to return a single counterattack. He had never seen such an odd style in his life, but that didn’t imply he couldn’t see anything to exploit or contain anything profound about it. Technique-wise, Ming Feizhen’s attacks were comparable to spray-and-pray haymakers a street thug throws in a brawl. What he had to praise was his opponent’s decision-making skills.
When a martial artist reaches a certain level, they will personalise their fighting style based on their personality, experiences, teachers and personal training. Luo Ming would describe Ming Feizhen’s style as high-pressure and effectively cold. More literally, it was straightforward and disregarded the possibility of a counterattack – basically how he felt.
Ming Feizhen’s style wasn’t flashy. His reactions were sharpened, and he never hesitated when making any decisions in combat. He always went with the option that suppresses his opponent’s options and movements. Abels and Zi Wutong were both high-pressure fighters, but Ming Feizhen was even better at the style.
High-pressure fighters need a lot of experience to be effective as experience equipped the combatant with better decision-making skills. What caught Luo Ming’s attention was that Ming Feizhen was so good at it at his young age. More explicitly, how much fighting had he been involved in?
That young man on the bone throne couldn’t have spawned out of thin air. Perhaps the answer has been in front of me all this time, but I’ve refused to face it. Could he…
“I’ve been as underestimated as I could possibly be, huh?”
For nobody but Luo Ming to hear Ming Feizhen indicated that the latter wasn’t a phony because you can’t fool a Divine Realm adept with petty tricks.
“You seem to still be warming up, Patriarch Luo. How about we get serious?”
Ming Feizhen retreated ten steps, giving Luo Ming some room to manoeuvre for the first time in their duel. He who can move in and out or any other direction at will in a fight is he who is dictating the distance as well as the pace of the fight.
Grinning, Ming Feizhen declared, “Here… I come,” and closed the gap in a flash once again.
Having to adjust one’s distance constantly in a fight is incredibly taxing on their mind – regardless of level or experience – because the brain must process an influx of information fast, decide on a course of action and act on it.
He really is… a superb fighter.
Luo Ming whipped out a vortex from his sword.
“Water King Thread – Reverse Waves.”
Ming Feizhen generated a vortex polarising Luo Ming’s on his left hand, neutralising the latter’s.
I only used Abyss once against him, yet he already has a counter for it?
An outsider may interpret it as a draw. Luo Ming, nonetheless, understood his technique was effortlessly defused. Although Abels countered the technique using the same approach, Luo Ming and Abels spent more time fighting each other – not accounting for Luo Ming knowing Abels better.
Ming Feizhen flicked a series of threads out from his right hand: “Ancient King Thread – Fury.”
Indomitable winds billowed against Luo Ming, prompting him to raise his head out of its trajectory. By the time he looked back at his opponent, Ming Feizhen’s left finger was already at his forehead.
“Autumn King Thread – Moonlight.”
Luo Ming ripped his sword back in front to save his head from becoming a pincushion.
“How about… a strength contest?”
Ming Feizhen imposed a force on Luo Ming’s sword, forcing Luo Ming’s feet back to the hot cauldron. Luo Ming, due to lacking time to veer himself off course, propelled himself sideways using the edge of the cauldron.
Since Ming Feizhen couldn’t retract his threads in time, they slammed into the cauldron, shifting it off its spot a tad and sending a burst of flames at the sky.
“Dang, dodged it, huh?” Ming Feizhen still sounded as though he was the man holding the reins to victory.
“Feizhen is… To think I believe I have a good eye for people, yet I never realised how big of a boost he is to Liu Shan Men. Wait…” Shen Yiren couldn’t identify the source of her burgeoning unease, but the more Ming Feizhen dazzled, the more that unease festered. “Wait, wait, wait… In the secret chamber… We’ve fallen for Luo Ming’s trap. Feizhen must stop fighting now.”
“Miss Shen, we ar-, Miss Shen?”
Shen Yiren sprinted out, ignoring Long Zaitian.
Feizhen needs to stop now!
Even though Luo Ming had a hole in his shoes owing to him kicking the scalding cauldron, he looked unfettered. “I see.”
“You see what?” Ming Feizhen inquired with the corner of his lips still up.
“I see that I ought to give you more credit. Not only do you have the attributes of a Divine Realm martial artist but would even have a place among the Supreme Ten Saints. I do beg your pardon for dismissing you.”
“Don’t say that.” Ming Feizhen frowned: “It makes it sound as if I’ve already lost.”
“You’re close enough, haha. When it comes to tough opponents, I typically have more than one option.”
“What?”
“Feizhen!”
Ming Feizhen moved his line of sight over to Shen Yiren. Her anxious movements not too far away and shaky expression bordering on tears lit up a light bulb for Ming Feizhen’s question.
“Stop fighting! It’s Luo Ming’s trap!”
“You still have that emotion barrier stone on you, don’t you?” Luo Ming asked.
“Feizhen, can you hear me?! Feizhen!”
Cry as she may, Shen Yiren’s voice wouldn’t reach Ming Feizhen. His eyes resembled the eyes of a man in a trance, and he resembled someone petrified.
“You’re the one who suggested we go all the way, so… you shouldn’t have any complaints about dying.”
Luo Ming meandered up to Ming Feizhen and, with one palm strike, sent Ming Feizhen into the giant cauldron.
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