After the brief but dangerous soul confrontation with the Holy Master, Lam Minh was still in a state of shock. The enemy knew of him. A powerful, mysterious enemy who could attack him from an unknown distance.
He looked down at the civilians who were beginning to emerge from their fear, gathering and looking at him with adoration. He knew the first thing he needed to do now was get them to safety.
But just then, the intuition of a Golden Core expert within him suddenly screamed a violent alarm.
An extremely dangerous, cold, and deathly aura suddenly appeared in the sky.
Lam Minh's head snapped up.
In the night sky, amidst the clouds torn apart by the earlier battle, a figure was hovering.
The figure wore a voluminous black cloak that concealed its entire body and face, revealing only a pair of eyes that glowed in the darkness, a blood-red color. The aura radiating from him was not the tyranny of a Madakaros, nor the mixed aura of a normal "Holy Child." It was a pure, sharp aura, yet it carried an indescribable evil.
And his cultivation level...
Peak Golden Core!
An expert on the same level as the strongest elders of the Madakaros clans.
Lam Minh narrowed his eyes. This person was not the Deacon from before. He was much stronger. When had he gotten here? Why hadn't his spiritual sense detected him at all?
The black-cloaked figure was also looking down at Lam Minh. He wasn't looking at the civilians, not at the pile of corpses. His gaze was focused solely on Lam Minh, the gaze of a predator that had just found worthy prey.
"You... are the one who caused all this?" the figure's voice sounded, hoarse and cold.
"What if I am?" Lam Minh replied, his hand tightening on the Thuan Thien sword. The Golden Core inside him began to spin, preparing for a fierce battle.
"Interesting," the black-cloaked figure said. "A human Golden Core cultivator who also possesses the Dragon bloodline. A rare specimen. I am very curious, I wonder what your heart tastes like."
He spoke gruesome words, but his tone was as casual as if he were discussing the weather.
"Who are you?" Lam Minh asked.
The black-cloaked figure chuckled, a dry laugh. "Me? You can call me Number Twelve. I am the 12th among the Twelve Holy Envoys of the Sacred Cult. I am here to bring the 'specimen' that is you back to the Holy Master."
The Twelve Holy Envoys?
Lam Minh frowned. Another new title. It seemed this organization had ranks even higher than Deacon. And the 12th member was already a Peak Golden Core? Then how strong were the ones at the top?
"You want to capture me?" Lam Minh gave a cold laugh. "Then we'll have to see if you have the ability."
"Of course, I do," Number Twelve said.
With that, without any warning.
He vanished on the spot.
It wasn't teleportation. It was pure speed, so fast that the naked eye couldn't follow.
Lam Minh, thanks to his Golden Core spiritual sense and combat intuition honed through countless life-and-death battles, managed to react in time. He leaned to one side.
VROOOM!
A hand wearing a sharp metal gauntlet brushed past his face, carrying a forceful gale that tore the air itself. If he had been a tenth of a second slower, his head would have been crushed.
Number Twelve appeared behind him and, giving him no time to breathe, spun and launched a spinning kick aimed straight at Lam Minh's temple.
Lam Minh raised his arm, channeling Dragon qi to form a faint layer of dragon scales to block the blow.
BAM!
A dull thud rang out. Lam Minh's entire body was pushed back several meters, his arm going numb.
"Good strength," Number Twelve said, his voice holding a hint of admiration. "But is that all?"
He charged in again, this time even faster. He didn't use flashy skills, only simple close-combat attacks: punches, kicks, elbows, knees. But each of his blows was perfectly calculated, combined with terrifying speed, forming a relentless storm of attacks.
Lam Minh was not outmatched. He operated the "Myriad Waters Return to Source," his body becoming as fluid as water, continuously dodging and neutralizing his opponent's attacks. The Thuan Thien sword in his hand no longer slashed with domineering force but moved unpredictably, sometimes stabbing at cunning angles, other times slicing at the joints on Number Twelve's body.
The battle between the two Peak Golden Core experts erupted right there in the square.
KENG! BAM! KENG!
The sound of clashing metal, the impact of fists and feet, rang out continuously. The speed of both was so fast that the civilians below could only see two blurs, one green and one black, constantly colliding and then separating.
With each collision, the ground of the square trembled, and large cracks appeared. The surrounding buildings were swept by the shockwaves from the battle and collapsed into rubble.
This was a battle on a completely different level.
After a period of probing exchanges, they both retreated, standing at opposite ends of the square, looking at each other.
Lam Minh was panting slightly, with a few minor scratches on his body.
Number Twelve was still calm, but his cloak had a few rips caused by Lam Minh's sword qi.
"Not bad," Number Twelve said. "You're stronger than I thought. It seems I'll have to get a little serious."
With that, from behind his cloak, two streaks of pure black light shot out, transforming into two strange short swords. Their blades were as thin as a cicada's wing but radiated a cold, dark qi.
Lam Minh also tightened his grip on the Thuan Thien sword, the Golden Core inside him spinning at high speed.
He knew the prelude was over.
The real battle was just beginning.
...
The air in the square seemed to thicken. Both Lam Minh and Number Twelve did not rush to attack. They just stood there silently, the auras of the two Peak Golden Core experts clashing, creating invisible winds that swirled around the square.
Number Twelve slowly raised his two black short swords. A cold, dark qi spread from the two blades, causing the ground beneath his feet to look as if it were coated in a thin layer of ice.
"These are the 'Twin Night Phantoms'," he said, his hoarse voice carrying a twisted pride. "A weapon bestowed upon me by the Holy Master. They were forged from a meteorite that fell from the Dark Realm. They are not only sharp, but can also corrode the soul."
Lam Minh said nothing, just tightened his grip on the Thuan Thien sword. He could feel the real danger from those two short swords.
"Let's see," Number Twelve said. "If your Dragon bloodline can withstand the corrosion of the Night Phantoms."
As soon as he finished speaking, he vanished again.
But this time, it wasn't one. It was two.
Two identical black shadows charged at Lam Minh from two different directions. One real, one fake? No. Lam Minh's spiritual sense told him that both black shadows carried the exact same aura and power.
This was a high-level cloning technique.
Lam Minh didn't panic. He operated the "Myriad Waters Return to Source," and spiritual energy flowed through him like a river, his intuition becoming incredibly sharp.
He didn't try to distinguish the real from the fake. He slashed his sword towards the black shadow on the left, while simultaneously channeling Dragon qi into his right hand and punching straight at the black shadow on the right.
KENG!
The Thuan Thien sword clashed with a Night Phantom short sword, creating a piercing explosion. A cold, dark qi from the short sword traveled up the blade, trying to invade Lam Minh's meridians. But it was immediately repelled and neutralized by his warm, pure yang Dragon qi.
At the same time, his fist also collided with the other short sword.
BOP!
His fist, enveloped in faint dragon scales, was incomparably hard and directly knocked the short sword away.
The two black shadows of Number Twelve were pushed back.
"Good defense," Number Twelve's voice sounded from both clones simultaneously. "But how long can you last?"
The two clones charged in again. This time, they didn't attack at the same time but coordinated with each other seamlessly. One attacked, one defended. One attacked from the front, one ambushed from behind.
Their swordsmanship was incredibly bizarre and cruel. Every strike was aimed at Lam Minh's fatal weak points. They didn't need to hit him directly; just a graze from the dark qi of the twin swords was enough to cause damage.
Lam Minh was completely drawn into their attack rhythm. He had to use 120% of his concentration, using both refined swordsmanship to deal with the frontal clone and his spiritual sense and intuition to guard against the attack from the other.
The battle became a fierce stalemate. Lam Minh, despite having an ancient cultivation technique and the Dragon God bloodline, couldn't gain the upper hand against an opponent with such bizarre combat skills and weapons. He could only defend with difficulty, occasionally managing to launch a weak counter-attack.
"Dammit! This isn't good," he thought. "My spiritual energy is being consumed very quickly."
He knew he couldn't prolong this fight. He had to find a way to break his opponent's cloning technique.
He parried a blow while observing carefully. He noticed something strange. Although the two clones had identical auras and strength, when they moved, there was always a very faint, almost invisible shadow connecting them.
"That shadow... is it the connecting thread?"
A bold idea flashed in his mind.
He decided to gamble once more.
He let out a roar, no longer defending, but pouring all his spiritual energy into the Thuan Thien sword.
Primeval Dragon God Art – Divine Dragon Rends the Heavens!
An invisible, destructive sword intent, not aimed at the two clones, but straight at... the faint shadow moving on the ground between them.
Number Twelve was stunned. He could never have imagined that the biggest secret of his cloning technique would be discovered. That shadow was his true body, the place from which he controlled the two energy puppets.
He hastily directed the two clones to turn back and defend, creating a thick shield of dark qi.
But the sword intent of Divine Dragon Rends the Heavens was unstoppable.
BOOM!
The dark qi shield shattered. The stream of sword intent pierced through the shadow.
"Ah..."
A groan of pain, for the first time, escaped from Number Twelve's mouth. His two clones also staggered, becoming blurry.
Lam Minh had hit his mark.
But he also had to pay a price. By focusing all his power on the attack, he had left an opening. One of the two Night Phantom short swords, as the shield shattered, had grazed his chest.
SLASH!
A deep gash appeared on Lam Minh's chest, fresh blood spraying out. A cold, evil dark qi began to spread from the wound throughout his body, corroding his life force and spiritual energy.
He staggered back, one knee buckling, using his sword to support himself so he wouldn't fall.
"Cough... cough..." he coughed up a mouthful of black blood.
Number Twelve, though his true body was injured, also stabilized himself. He looked at the heavily wounded Lam Minh and laughed maniacally.
"Haha! You are very good! Very good! To be able to find my true body. But so what? You've been hit by the poisonous qi of the Night Phantoms. Your life force will be corroded until you die! You've lost!"
He slowly approached, raising his two short swords, preparing to deliver the finishing blow.
Lam Minh looked up at him. Despite being severely injured, despite the dark qi ravaging his body, there was not a trace of fear in his eyes.
On the contrary, there was a smile.
A defiant and... somewhat expectant smile.
"You think... this is the end?" he whispered. "The fun... is only just getting started."
He closed his eyes.
He had gotten what he needed. A perfect excuse to "die."
He prepared to activate his strongest trump card.