Chapter 489 One Glance, One Kill

• Compared to Duanmu Liang, the ferocity and fearless stance of the Sun King that day left everyone stunned. Different choices lead to different futures. Even if Duanmu Liang becomes a martial arts grandmaster in this life, he’ll still fall short of the Sun King. The blade flashed like lightning. That white gleam was the edge, slicing the air, vicious and unmatched. The instant he struck, even Damon King’s pupils narrowed. That knife intent, that pressure—being the Wolf Emperor’s disciple, the Sun King clearly had the real deal. Even Damon had to retreat, slipping back to avoid the tip. One slash fell. Seeing Damon evade, the blade rose again, vast and endless, like moonlight pouring over the earth, flooding every inch of space. Damon remembered his battle with Gongsun Zheng. The Sun King could go toe-to-toe with Gongsun Zheng, and he was younger, hotter-blooded, sharper. But since then, Damon had grown a lot stronger than he’d been against Gongsun Zheng. After obtaining the fifth Dragon-Pattern Compass, his strength shot up another level—mysterious vitality and power swelling inside him. The knife-light stretched and flickered, almost alive, layering and flowing without end. The Sun King charged in with his blade like a lone wolf on the prairie—wild, vicious, cunning. He locked on Damon and kept after him, aiming to chase him down and tear him apart piece by piece. Right then, Damon’s body shuddered. His hands became knives, crossing like shears to clip the incoming edge. Two invisible surges of force vibrated along his palms, crossing and coiling like twin dragons. The blade was fierce, the wolf was savage—but neither could bite through dragons. Wolf and dragon slammed into each other. The blade-light skimmed past and shattered. The two dragons rolled, riding cloud and rain—though churned by the blade, their fighting will didn’t die. They burst into surging force that spread in all directions. Out of the broken energy, a fist crashed onto the blade. The edge sprang away. The punch didn’t stop, thunderous as it kept driving forward. The Sun King’s pupils tightened. He curved back, flipped the blade, and sliced down with the dull side of the crescent, like a hoop snapping onto Damon’s wrist to cut it clean off. Savage as hell—down a beat, he still countered without hesitation. At the same time, his left hand swept across his chest. After a sharp clash, the crescent bounced again. The Sun King staggered back a few steps, steadied, then his eyes shrank and he lunged—blade rising once more. Seeing the Sun King retreat, Duanmu Liang exchanged a look with the others and made a sign. In the next heartbeat, he flashed in and hooked a claw toward Damon’s back, aiming straight for a vital spot. Wind whipped. The eagle claw glowed gold, like cast from pure metal. Meanwhile, two elders from the Changbai Sect struck together—one’s sword darted for Damon’s brow, the other slapped for his ribs. Shang Wushuang’s uncle moved too, stepping across with a punch that cracked the air. Two young fighters also shifted into place, feet stamping like they traced the Big Dipper, circling Damon. They didn’t go one by one. All their attacks crossed, weaving a web of death—killing intent thick as tar, nowhere to dodge. Inside each of them, tendons and bones sang, roaring with wind and thunder. Their refined power surged—hard and soft merged—making the scalp prickle and the heart pound. When the Sun King’s blade chopped down, Damon’s palm-edges cut it with a clash like metal on stone. The Sun King slid back, blade-light rising again. But he saw Duanmu Liang’s crew moving in. His brow creased. He suddenly lowered his blade and actually backed up two steps. “Die!” Duanmu Liang snarled, eyes cold and murderous. The Changbai disciples watching were dazzled, shaken to the core. Below Duanmu Liang, almost every refined-power expert from the Changbai Sect stepped in. The Sun King, Duanmu Liang, Mu Rihua, and Sang Chi—those four stood at the peak of refined power. And they were striking from different angles, decisive as hell, sealing off every path Damon could take. A killing formation. In this kind of trap, forget refined-power fighters—even a grandmaster would get hurt under a siege. After all, even a grandmaster still bleeds. If you have to cover everything at once, you pay a price. Of course, a pack of refined-power elites ganging up on a grandmaster still isn’t easy. The cost would be brutal. A tight chill rose in Damon’s chest. Dodging was no longer an option. He gave up on pressing the Sun King. He pivoted, barely slipping past Duanmu Liang’s Eagle God Claw, then stomped. Boom. The ground seemed to shake. Murderous aura surged in waves. His eyes went cold and distant. The mysterious energy inside him scattered in a snap, flooding his limbs and bones. His force swelled, and that terrifying killing intent shot for the sky. His fist crashed out, boiling malice rolling like a tide. Boom. Fist met palm. Duanmu Liang’s face twisted with horror, eyes full of disbelief. A savage fighting will swallowed him whole. In an instant he stood in a hell of a battlefield—endless smoke, armies colliding, rivers of blood, killing stretching for miles. His Eagle God Claw splintered apart. His body blasted backward. Damon moved like a phantom, riding Duanmu Liang’s retreat and sticking close. In the next instant, Damon’s left hand dropped, like snatching sun and moon, pinning a sword edge under his palm. Murderous chi flooded his chest and ground the sword’s endless snowy chill to dust. The keen edge skimmed past his ribs. Elder Mu, who had thrust the sword, jolted and got swallowed by the onrushing malice, stumbling back step after step. A shadow of a palm swung in. Damon sank his body and spun, ignoring the man’s raging inner force. He shot a hand forward and slammed it into the guy’s chest. The attacker’s eyes went wild. He tried to pull back, but it was too late—he flew. An iron eagle claw clamped Damon’s shoulder. Damon neither dodged nor flinched—honestly, under fire at this level, he couldn’t—so he took the claw head-on. But in that split second, his withdrawn hand clenched into a claw and snatched for the man’s throat. The man let go fast, but a brutal shock ran up from Damon’s shoulder, numbing his hand to the bone. He backpedaled hard. Too slow. From Damon’s clawed fingertips, sharp streams of energy shot out and punched straight through the man’s throat. Clutching his neck, he staggered back and dropped to the ground. Blood gushed between his fingers. A blade and a sword came slashing in together. “Die.” Damon’s eyes were icy, murderous. He flipped his hands—palms turned into knives. Whoosh. Two arcs of force lanced out, white rainbows streaking across the sun, cutting diagonally. Blade and sword hit—but couldn’t bite an inch. The two figures were split by Damon’s true energy and chopped clean in half. Blood sprayed high. Those two refined-power experts didn’t even get a chance to fight back. The Changbai disciples froze at the sight, faces twisted with shock, terror rising deep in their eyes. The one Damon pierced through the throat, the guy sitting there bleeding out, was Elder Sang Chi—one of the Changbai Sect’s top dogs. And the two split by Damon’s released force were also strong hands of the sect—not on Duanmu Liang’s level, but still among the few refined-power fighters they had. They’d launched a joint sneak attack—and Damon cut them down the second they rushed him. How strong do you have to be for that? Even a grandmaster wouldn’t be better. Many Changbai disciples had already started retreating without meaning to, fear spreading across their faces. Under the siege of so many refined-power elites, Damon didn’t get off scot-free—but his expression never changed. He sprang up and dove straight for Duanmu Liang. Duanmu’s soul almost fled his body. He stumbled back, panicked. Damon was faster. Seeing he couldn’t dodge, Duanmu Liang shouted, “Uncle Master Xiao, save me!” Off to the side, a ribbon of force streaked in through the air, power unmatched, terrifying enough to make the world gasp.