The scene before me was startling. John Chou had completely suppressed his opponent, his sword slashing relentlessly while the Wraithlord could only defend, no longer able to counterattack, forced to retreat and block.
I was a bit stunned by this turn of events. Just moments ago, after John Chou was struck, I thought he was no match for the Wraithlord. But he quickly rose, and with masterful, repeated thrusts, he completely suppressed the Wraithlord, forcing him onto the defensive.
The clang of swords echoed. Under John Chou’s rapid and continuous attacks, the Wraithlord swung his sword left and right, constantly parrying John Chou’s blade. Their movements gradually became repetitive—John Chou stabbed from all directions, and the Wraithlord would immediately respond whenever he found an opening.
The Wraithlord’s face was calm, his eyes fixed on John Chou, seemingly searching for a chance to strike back. Yet faced with the relentless assault, he could only keep retreating.
I quietly pondered. Their sheer skill was beyond my imagination—such ferocious, unyielding attacks left no room for the opponent. Not only could I not match them, even just watching was exhausting.
Suddenly, John Chou leapt up after a thrust, stabbing downward from above. The Wraithlord reacted instantly, raising his sword to block, but he was still a step too slow. John Chou’s blade sliced down the Wraithlord’s chest, forcing him to leap backward.
With a swish, another tear appeared in the Wraithlord’s already tattered robe.
"I suppose that’s a draw."
John Chou said, planting his sword into the ground. The Wraithlord sneered and sat down cross-legged. I immediately ran over.
"You really are clever. You kept attacking from the same spot, forcing my body to adapt to your moves in a short time—then suddenly changed your method. If it were anyone else, they’d likely be dead by now."
As the Wraithlord spoke, I recalled that it was true—John Chou’s attacks, though from different directions, always alternated among five spots: up, down, left, right, and center. It seemed chaotic, but they repeated in a pattern. His final strike suddenly changed, and I, watching from the side, had already stood up without realizing it. Yet the Wraithlord still managed to react and counter.
"A ten-centimeter gap—you calculated that precisely. Thanks to your height advantage, my sword needs an extra ten centimeters to reach you, while yours can keep mine at a perfectly safe distance. But while this technique is impressive, you’ll need to reconsider when facing someone truly skilled."
John Chou burst out laughing, then turned to look at me.
"Brother, watch closely and use this method for yourself. It suits you well. You may not be able to unleash full power in a single strike like Mr. Brown, but repeated attacks give your mind time to think and find a breakthrough."
I nodded, but at that moment, the Wraithlord looked at John Chou with utter disdain.
"Want to test your interest rates? That ten-centimeter safety zone may not be as secure as you think!"
"Is that so? Let’s leave this for now. The night is almost over—I need to head back."
With that, John Chou stood up and gradually faded from sight, giving me one last look. I nodded to him in return.
The Wraithlord looked at John Chou, grinding his teeth in frustration.
"Tomorrow night. Let’s continue tomorrow night."
It was clear the Wraithlord was still irritated after being struck by John Chou. I replayed that moment in my mind—the force, the angle, the speed of his sword were all remarkable. It was a matter of timing.
"That’s the nature of technique—it can multiply great power several times over. John Chou is clever, always finding new ways to adapt to his enemies. You’re different, so everything he’s taught you has been rigid."
I gave an awkward laugh and nodded. It was true—I’d never learned to use my power flexibly, always relying on brute force. Sooner or later, that approach would fail.
"If you add true strength, the outcome is already decided. The stronger the opponent, the less chance they’ll give you to strike back."
A vivid image flashed through my mind—John Chou slicing the Wraithlord clean in half. I shook my head and looked at the Wraithlord. What he said was true; in that instant, he saw the spot where he could kill John Chou with a single strike, so he acted without hesitation.
"Is that so?"
I asked. The Wraithlord glanced at me in confusion, then nodded.
"Take it slow—there’s so much you still need to learn. Just now, I did spot John Chou’s weakness, so I swung for his waist. At that moment, if I’d used my full strength, even if he was in his Return Image state, he wouldn’t have escaped. After all, the real body and the Return Image are nearly identical. It’s convenient, but the drawbacks are clear."
As the Wraithlord spoke, he stood and came over to me. Looking around, he raised a hand. A mass of black substance condensed before me—Deathbane Aura. My eyes widened in shock.
This was supposed to be my dream world—there’s no way the Wraithlord should be able to control my body here. How did he conjure Deathbane Aura? Most importantly, the Blood Jade contains only the Wraithlord’s soul fragment, which has no power, just willpower strong enough to invade my consciousness and control my body.
"Surprised?"
I nodded.
"That’s another aspect of technique. If you see the dream as a space similar to the Four Sacred Realm, it all makes sense. Have you ever wondered what the surrounding darkness really is?"
I shook my head—I really hadn’t thought about it.
"It’s called the Void. Long ago, people called it the Void—something without substance, yet truly existing. It’s similar to instinct, but fundamentally different. So, even if this is your dreamspace, what’s actually real here?"
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I swallowed. The Wraithlord grinned and waved his hand—the black Deathbane Aura in his palm instantly dissipated.
"Follow me."
I responded and quickly followed the Wraithlord. He led me onward, walking through the endless blackness. Suddenly, the Wraithlord stopped.
"You keep going."
I quickly took two steps forward—bam! I bumped into something. Reaching out, I felt a wall, completely invisible in the darkness.
"What is this?"
"This is the Endwall. You can think of it as the boundary or termination—this is the truth of this world. A world born from the Unreal; between reality and dream, there must be a barrier to prevent them from eroding or interfering with each other. For example, some ghosts kill people through dreams. Do you know why?"
I swallowed. I’d definitely heard of such things, even witnessed them—some people die in their dreams, and it happens in reality too.
"Actually, the barrier between dream and reality isn’t airtight. Ghosts capable of such feats slip through the cracks, entering dreams to devour souls, killing their victims in nightmares—or rather, in the ghost’s belly. The Dream Sovereign you know is just like that. He controls dreams because he mastered the Unreal, honing his technique until he could freely manipulate dreamspace."
"Technique can give birth to power..."
I muttered. The Wraithlord nodded immediately.
"Many ghosts are like that. Some are born special, but they’re rare. Most ghosts who master power do so through endless training, turning it into technique. On that foundation, they nurture new strength."
My eyes widened. Raising a hand, I slowly released Deathbane Aura, letting it condense into a Ghost Eagle. The Wraithlord glanced at it.
"Still too immature. Such infantile power won’t help you in real combat. You need to refine every aspect with precision and care. That’s why you’ve been stuck for so long."
I stared at the Deathbane Aura pistol in my hand. This method was something I’d devised with Hu Tianshu to fight the Immortality Society—first realized in the Forest of Desire, then used in reality. But except for the time I shot a Desire Bullet into the blue-faced man’s heart and let desire devour him, it rarely worked. All the other bullets had little effect.
"Is my technique lacking?"
The Wraithlord nodded.
"It’s not about accuracy or use—it’s about timing, and everything I just mentioned. Observing the enemy’s strengths and weaknesses, attacking where they’re vulnerable. You’ve never done that in battle, but your ghost souls have done well."
I grunted, my mind a mess. The situation made me anxious—I needed to improve, not just in strength, which only grows as my ghost souls mature, but in technique. I’d never craved it so much before.
"Let’s stop here for today. You should get some food."
Slowly, I opened my eyes. A damp towel hovered before me, a slender hand wiping the sweat from my temples.