Pillar of Yita

Qing slowly put down the gun in his hand.

In fact, if he had made a move, he might have hit the target, but at that moment, a trace of curiosity flashed in his heart, restraining his intention to shoot. The opponent’s actions were somewhat intriguing; he changed the direction of the gun’s muzzle a second time, holding back his fire with very concealed intentions. The live broadcast room was full of smoke at that time, and obviously, most people didn’t read his intentions—but that’s normal, as their level is just that.

Yet the opponent made the correct judgment, and twice in a row. Was this a coincidence? Or natural talent? Or does he have another reliance? But if there’s another reliance, the only thing he could think of is the Hailin Crown.

He walked forward.

”Did I dodge it?” Fang Hong asked softly as he ran.

R remained noncommittal, in fact, he hadn’t spoken since the beginning.

”He didn’t make a move, Ade,” a girl with eyes like Star Flower and silver long ears on the other end of the video call answered: ”He’s also reading your intentions, be careful.”

He, reading my intentions? Fang Hong felt greatly surprised. With the opponent’s level of strength, what use would it be to read his intentions? But a word surfaced in his mind—caution, like a hunter examining its prey, cold and precise, not wasting a single ounce of effort, exactly the law a natural predator follows.

But when it falls on a person, it only brings to mind a cautious yet powerful opponent, precisely the most troublesome kind.

A silver light appeared in the darkness.

Fang Hong was slightly stunned and only then did he see that it was a straight line, a mark projected into his enhanced vision system by R. ”Ade, behind.” At this moment, Miya’s voice came again.

Almost silently, a jade-green spear parted the darkness, arriving first, piercing the path to his right hand side, blocking his advance.

Fang Hong’s heart tightened but he also realized that the opponent didn’t use a fatal move. He turned around just in time to see a dark azure shadow drifting ghost-like behind him, but it was just the residual image left by the opponent. Fang Hong had just raised his hand when he saw Qing appear in front of him—

He instinctively stepped back, but Qing also slid left, moving at a speed comparable to blinking, and kept closely trailing him. Then he raised his hand, delivering an elbow strike. Fang Hong hadn’t even managed to see the shadow of the opponent’s right hand when he felt a massive force in his chest, lifting him into the air, propelling him four or five meters away.

He crashed hard into a rock wall, then slid down, the Magic Guided Reactor making a clattering noise, with several components falling off. But amidst the golden stars dancing before his eyes, his first reaction was still to check the working condition of his Magic Guided Reactor; efficiency had dropped by twenty percent, and the failure rate doubled.

But it’s still usable.

Fang Hong got to his feet and gritted his teeth: ”Teacher... cough, cough, I blocked it.”

R said nothing.

But Fang Hong raised his head and was slightly stunned.

In the darkness, a silver line was extending to the right, like a bolt of lightning across the pitch-black sky, falling straight into his heart—

Qing raised his right hand into a knife position and slowly lowered it, looking a bit surprised at the scene. Despite taking a hit from him, the opponent hadn’t simply fainted instantly; the live broadcast room was discussing how high this guy’s defense was.

But he understood.

Even at the last moment, the opponent had reacted, stepping half a step in the most ideal direction, otherwise, this blow would have reduced the opponent’s life by at least two-thirds. According to Eteliria’s life-form self-protection rules, he should have fallen into a state of shock.

But this is the end.

He didn’t intend to let extraneous things happen, giving a Combat Artisan time to deploy a flexible construct, so he stepped forward, splitting into four figures.

This wasn’t some clone technique; it was just Qing changing direction four times to the left and right, so quick that Fang Hong’s dynamic vision couldn’t keep up with his limits, projecting four different shadows on his retina. Yet he still gritted his teeth, forcing himself to raise his hand.

The silver line continued to extend forward.

A soft sound.

The front half of ’Pride of the Lonely King’ paw flew out in the direction the silver line indicated.

In the darkness, a long arc of light, sparks flying.

At this moment, a long sigh was heard from Qing’s live broadcast room: ”Ah?”

Qing turned in mid-air, waved his hand, and knocked Fang Hong’s flying claw away. His heart was already profoundly shocked; how did the opponent capture that—just a Combat Artisan, a mere rookie!

His mind raced as he made an urgent stop in place, then changed direction again, leaving seven or eight consecutive afterimages in Fang Hong’s vision before finally leaping.

And on Fang Hong’s retina, a silver light was flying back towards him—he didn’t need to look at Qing, just the silver light. At the same time, he gritted his teeth and set his shield to maximum, then lifted his left hand with the reinforced glove.

The silver light bent down, his left hand moved down to block it, another burst of spark in the dark as the impact nearly knocked him off balance. The shield plugin on his Magic Guided Reactor exploded into a ball of sparks, announcing it was out of service. Yet the silver light didn’t stop, bending towards the middle again.

During the backward sway of his left hand, Fang Hong fired the Rocket Claw. Qing launched a punch at him but hit the Rocket Claw directly, sparks scattering, and left fist spinning out.

Despite missing twice in a row, Qing’s face remained cold, though his heart was already trembling. He almost developed an admiration for talent, stepping back slightly and taking the time to ask: ”Hand over the Hailin Crown, and I won’t kill you.”