The gears of fate turned with cold indifference, dragging Ding Chenguang and Niu Shenwu into a nightmare of a life-or-death battle.
In mid-air, a deafening explosion suddenly erupted, sounding like the wrath of heaven descending at the apocalypse, shaking the very foundations of the world. It was a roar of fury from a primordial beast waking from a deep slumber, or perhaps the explosive birth of a universe from chaos. The sound wave rippled outward in a crushing tide, sending visible tremors through the air. The space warped like a calm lake struck by a mountain-sized boulder, the ripples spreading into the void as if to drag all of existence into the swirling chaos.
The massive sword shadow Ding Chenguang had manifested with all the strength of his soul tore through the heavens like a meteor wreathed in destructive fire, hurtling toward Niu Shenwu with unstoppable momentum. This blade was his final desperate hope for survival, the culmination of his devout faith in power refined over years of cultivation, and his last, all-in gamble. The moment it touched Niu Shenwu’s defensive aura, time seemed to be seized by an invisible hand and frozen solid. The sword shadow even seemed to receive a fleeting touch of destiny, miraculously advancing a hair’s breadth. That tiny sliver of progress was like a flickering candle in the dark—insignificant, yet unimaginably precious—and a spark of hope lit up in Ding Chenguang’s eyes, like that of a drowning man clutching a straw.
Chapter 120