Ms. Diviner: The Prodigal Daughter's Return

Mu Feng still couldn’t understand how this worthless loser, a mere first-level swordsman, could have possibly blocked his condensed power sword strike, comparable to a divine weapon, with that piece of junk in his hand. He looked at his own sword, then at the one in Han Yan’s hand, filled with questions and doubts.

Upon hearing Han Yan’s arrogant declaration, Mu Feng didn’t have the mind to think any further. He felt a burning pain on his face, as if someone had viciously slapped him across the cheek.

”Han Yan, don’t get too cocky,” Mu Feng gritted his teeth and unleashed his full power in a sword slash at Han Yan.

In an instant, chilling intent filled the sky, and murderous aura pervaded from all directions, as the surrounding air turned unnaturally cold.

Sword Kill Eight Desolates! This was one of the ultimate skills of Mu Swordsmanship, and a deadly strike at that.

Previously, out of regard for Han Yan’s status, Mu Feng had had no intention of killing, at most he just wanted to bully and humiliate him, but now, provoked by Han Yan’s words, a fire ignited within him, and, in the heat of the moment, he resorted to his most prideful and lethal sword strike.

Seeing this, many people’s faces changed.

Yue Fanling’s heart tightened, and she thought to intervene, but in the next moment, her hand was gently held by Mu Rui’an, stopping her in her tracks. Yue Fanling was stunned, turned to look at Mu Rui’an, and saw his face stern and steady, yet a complex joy flickered in his eyes. Seeing this, Yue Fanling no longer acted rashly and quietly sat down to continue watching.

The crowd also didn’t understand how Han Yan had blocked Mu Feng’s previous sword strike. They guessed it must have been something odd about her sword because no one believed that someone of only first rank status, the notoriously useless Young Master of Heishi City, could do so with his genuine strength.

Even if that sword were a legendary divine weapon, his true strength remained limited, so how could he possibly withstand the Sword Kill Eight Desolates, one of the seven deadly strikes of the Mu Swordsmanship?

Han Yan remained composed, looking at the incoming murderous strike without even moving to draw his sword.

What was he doing? Seeing Han Yan with no reaction, the crowd grew puzzled: Had he been scared stiff? Just a moment ago, he had an unchallengeable, arrogant demeanor, but now he was frightened so quickly. A loser is always a loser, they thought. Even with a divine weapon in hand, it’s no use if one can’t stand up to the challenge.

Many people silently scorned Han Yan, but soon, they would realize their mistake.

Mu Feng’s menacing sword strike suddenly stopped, hovering in mid-air. This time, it was not Han Yan’s longsword that blocked it, but two slender fingers.

Han Yan smiled faintly, his fingers moving lightly and effortlessly as if lifting a petal, easily pinching Mu Feng’s all-out sword strike.

The Sword Kill Eight Desolates, one of the seven ultimate kills of the Mu Swordsmanship, was resolved so casually.

In the arena, a wave of gasps sounded. If Han Yan’s previous block was attributed to her sword seeming ordinary yet being a divine weapon, then how would one explain this?

Han Yan flicked his fingers and sent Mu Feng stumbling back, sword and all, a few steps. He said, ”That’s two moves passed. Now, let me give you your final chance.”

As he spoke, Han Yan’s heart surged with an unprecedented sense of exhilaration. No more frustrations of being weak!

Power—that is the confidence and boldness brought by true strength.