"Haha, I never imagined you were holding something back, kid."
Realizing that the Yilin he had pierced had turned into a wisp of smoke and vanished, Azhdaha knew very well that Yilin had held back during his earlier spar with the two Adepti. Hearing him say that he had other methods gained in seclusion filled Azhdaha's eyes with anticipation.
Martial Dao was about mutual exchange, sparring, and debating the Dao—the fires of wisdom colliding, the sparks from that friction igniting a raging blaze to forge one's own Martial Dao path. Only by witnessing heaven and earth and all living beings could the path of Martial Dao advance with unstoppable momentum.
"Then, be ready."
Seeing Azhdaha look at him with anticipation, Yilin chuckled softly, thrust his longsword into the ground, formed hand seals, and unleashed the After-Wind Qimen.
"Qian-Kan: Three Feet of Autumn Water, Ten Thousand Swords from the Heavens."
The water Elemental Energy between heaven and earth surged over, transforming into millions of autumn water longswords. Endless and unceasing, they formed a rushing river of swords that flew threateningly toward Azhdaha.
If the Twenty-Four Solar Terms Swordsmanship merely used sword intent and momentum to control and alter celestial phenomena to deal with enemies, then the After-Wind Qimen turned oneself into a formation, manipulating all the phenomena of heaven and earth to shift at will. Within the range of the formation, everything controllable by one's own ability could be transformed into a method of combating the enemy according to one's thoughts.
With Yilin's current strength at the Celestial-Human Realm, he could utilize the Elemental Energy within a radius of at least dozens of kilometers to fight at full power. Using the unyielding quality of Metal and the utmost softness of Water, piercing sharpness paired with flexible force, it was impervious to everything and penetrated every crevice.
The heaven-shrouding river of swords roared forward, reaching him in the blink of an eye. Azhdaha showed no fear; with a loud laugh, he raised his greatsword and smashed them apart one by one. The heavy greatsword in his hands seemed weightless, brandished so tightly that not even a drop of water or a needle could pass through, shattering countless autumn water longswords.
Yet how could it be so simple? The autumn water longswords that had been shattered and dispersed coalesced once more in the blink of an eye, reforming to continue their assault.
Seeing that this heaven-shrouding river of swords could not be cut down completely and regenerated after being broken, Azhdaha knew that the only way to break it was to target Yilin himself, making it impossible for him to sustain the sword river.
With a powerful swing of both hands, his greatsword slashed out a massive wave of sword qi that cleaved a vast section of the sword river, causing its momentum to stall for a fraction of a second. Then he stomped fiercely onto the ground, shaking the entire arena. Taking a deep breath, Azhdaha unleashed a earth-shattering dragon roar that resounded through the entire military camp.
"Boom!"
"Roar!"
The arena beneath their feet continued to vibrate, followed immediately by the mountain-shaking dragon roar. The entire river of autumn water swords was shattered in an instant, and Yilin could no longer maintain the hand seals to keep the sword river coalesced.
The dispersed river of swords gathered in the air for a split second before transforming into heavy droplets of rain, turning the entire arena into a torrential downpour.
Seeing his technique broken, Yilin hastily employed his movement technique to evade Azhdaha's ensuing counterattack. Even while dodging, his hands kept forming seals, eager to release another technique in retaliation.
"Colorless World."
"Qian-Xun: Golden-Winged Roc."
The Colorless World technique was unleashed. In an instant, the entire arena and the area where the onlookers stood outside seemed divided into two separate worlds. The entire arena lost its color, and time itself stagnated, making any movement exceedingly difficult.
Then, a hundred-meter-long golden roc suddenly appeared in the arena. Its flapping wings manipulated the wind elements, moving with peerless agility like a spirit of the wind. Its beak and talons gleamed with golden light, razor-sharp, as it launched continuous attacks against Azhdaha.
Knowing that his current cultivation level meant the Colorless World technique would have limited binding effect on Azhdaha, Yilin added a Golden-Winged Roc to aid in the combat.
The Golden-Winged Roc struck with blinding speed, leaving Azhdaha no opportunity to directly attack Yilin in the short term. The moment it blocked the roc's strike, the giant bird refused to linger and instantly flew off. Before Azhdaha could react, the next strike followed closely behind, leaving him somewhat hard-pressed to cope for a time.
This was precisely the effect Yilin wanted. Seeing that Azhdaha was temporarily unable to attack him, his hands moved in a blur of seals, and several spells rained down upon Azhdaha in rapid succession.
"Water to Ice."
"Hidden Dragon Do Not Use."
"True Five-Thunder Method."
"Great Sun True Fire."
Using the After-Wind Qimen to subvert the laws of heaven and earth within the formation, he first utilized the water that had fallen from the dispersed autumn water sword river, freezing it into ice to trap Azhdaha for a split second. Next, countless arm-thick rock dragons erupted from the ground to coil around and bite at Azhdaha. Immediately following that, endless bolts of heavenly thunder crashed down, and the light of the sun gathered into flames that burned fiercely toward Azhdaha.
In an instant, countless elemental reactions erupted simultaneously, causing violent explosions across the entire arena. Had Morax not maintained the protective formation, the shockwave from the explosions would likely have reached the Millelith outside.
Even so, the entire training ground was blasted into a massive crater. When the dust and smoke cleared, Azhdaha was standing unharmed in the exact same spot.
Well, unharmed—provided one ignored the greatsword in his hand that had shattered into several pieces, leaving only the hilt, and his new afro hairstyle.
"Haha, your little combo pack packs quite a punch. Against a mid-level God with mediocre defenses, you could actually fight them to a standstill or even win."
That sudden barrage of combo skills a moment ago featured spells that cooperated flawlessly, catching even him off guard and drawing a hit. The various elements reacted with one another, triggering a violent explosion; had his skin not been thick enough—and had he not secretly used a bit of extra strength—he might really have had his defenses breached.
"It's a pity that even with all that, I couldn't even break your skin, Azhdaha. Your skin really is thick."
Hearing this, Azhdaha pointed a finger at Yilin and laughed with exasperation.
"Hehe, don't be ungrateful, kid. With your current realm, being able to fight a mid-level God and even defeat them is already something to be proud of. How long have you even been cultivating? If I hadn't used a bit more strength during that explosion just now, your little trick might actually have broken my defenses. Don't be insatiable, and don't aim too high."
"Those truly at my level and Morax's have cultivated for God knows how many years. Our understanding of Authority and power is engraved in our very bones, perfectly fluid and at our beck and call. We condense power with a mere wave of our hands, and any part of our bodies—including our nails and hair—can be used to fight. Your power is still far too scattered."
"Still, you haven't been cultivating for long after all. Being able to break through to the Celestial-Human Realm in this seclusion, comprehend your own path, and display combat power capable of fighting a mid-level God at the Celestial-Human Realm is already extraordinary."
Azhdaha patted Yilin's shoulder earnestly, hoping both that this supremely talented fellow wouldn't aim too high and that he wouldn't become overly arrogant and complacent.
"I understand, Azhdaha."
Yilin nodded with a solemn expression, catching the intent behind Azhdaha's words and feeling rather moved.
"Right, Azhdaha, what percentage of your power did you use just now?"
Azhdaha glanced at him without a word. He simply placed his hands behind his back, raised four fingers and flicked them, restoring the training ground—which had just been blasted into a massive crater—back to its original state, before slowly walking away with his afro still on his head.
"Four percent?"
"I still need to work harder."