With a chilling jingle, Mr. White swept toward me, brandishing his Mourning Staff and thrusting it in my direction.
I lifted my head. The space before me was like a tranquil water surface, suddenly disturbed as something plunged in, sending ripples everywhere. I stared in shock.
Just as the Mourning Staff came within a meter or two of my face, I felt a tremendous force surging toward me. Without thinking, I grabbed the Butcher's Blade and swung upward with all my strength.
Deathbane Aura followed my intent, spilling out and coiling around the blade. With a metallic clang, a violent gust nearly knocked me off my feet.
My Butcher's Blade didn't strike Mr. White's Mourning Staff, but instead seemed to hit an invisible wall of steel.
A jingle rang out from the bell on the Mourning Staff, and instantly, ripples spread through the space around me. My mind buzzed, and suddenly I couldn't hear anything. My vision began to blur.
"Oh, kid, you're pretty quick to react."
Mr. White raised his Mourning Staff, grinning. His long tongue suddenly shot out toward me.
I had to stay calm. In moments like this, composure was vital. My opponent clearly wasn't using his full strength, and I couldn't afford to be careless—especially with that Mourning Staff. It seemed to draw all attention to Mr. White, and anyone who came close and heard that bell would lose sight and sound.
This time, I didn’t hesitate. Seizing the moment, I gripped the Butcher’s Blade horizontally with both hands, bracing myself. With a metallic clang, the tip of his tongue struck the back of my blade. The force hurled me backwards—I tumbled across the ground before scrambling to my feet.
In Mr. White’s eyes, there was a flicker of disbelief.
Panting heavily, I stared at him. Even I found it unbelievable—his tongue lashed out with terrifying speed, yet somehow, I knew exactly how to defend against it.
What’s happening to me? I recalled how that monstrous tongue had struck me back onto the riverbank. The sensation was unmistakable: it was impossibly hard, my blade couldn’t cut it at all. If I’d tried to block it head-on, I might’ve been skewered right through the chest.
Mr. White didn’t retract his tongue. Instead, he shook his head left and right, the tongue whipping through the air like a steel lash.
I gripped the Butcher’s Blade tightly, blocking left and right. His attacks grew faster and faster—I could barely keep up. Retreating, his tongue whipped past me with a chilling hiss, tearing a huge gash in my clothes.
Then I crashed down hard, landing on my backside. His tongue snapped back, while Mr. Black’s eyes glinted with confusion.
“This kid… something’s off about him…”
Mr. White turned his head away.
“Brother Wujiu, this kid fights like a seasoned veteran—he knows exactly how to defend himself.”