Stop it, Taoist, Your Fight almost Ruins the DAO!

A sour, grating sound ensued.

The mist evaporated instantly.

Seeing this, Yi Chen's expression immediately changed.

He felt his Pure Yang Inner Qi being neutralized.

It was just an insignificant amount.

But what if this ribbon-like mist kept falling down? Under such a diminishing situation, they truly might not survive here.

Moreover, his Pure Yang surge state could only last for ten minutes, followed by a twelve-hour period of weakness.

The white-haired elder looked at the four people trapped under the iron curtain, revealing a smile mixed with both pleasure and hatred.

It cackled, "Fog Ghost, Mud Tendril, be gentle with that abbess, leave her alive—I want to personally torture her."

"As for the other three, kill them all, let's evenly divide their vital essence."

Upon hearing this, Yi Chen was rendered speechless. He glanced at Abbess Shuiyue and sighed in his heart that this ghostly creature was consistently cruel, then without further hesitation, he charged at the white-haired elder with the Dragon-Slaying Sword in hand.

Seeing Yi Chen make a move, the three companions, all experienced fighters, exchanged glances. They knew that the longer the night, the more dreams might disrupt them. The longer the delay, the worse it was for them, so they also attacked the white-haired elder together.

Just then, an unexpected change occurred.

Streams of black mist rose from the ground, isolating the lotus monk, Abbess Shuiyue, and Daoist Qingxu from one another.

The black mist swept over, and their figures were instantly concealed.

Meanwhile, the Mud Tendril that previously contended with Daoist Qingxu's sound wave technique rolled back and covered the white-haired elder.

Parts of the mud wound around the elder's joints, wrists, and knees.

Another portion of the mud formed a half-body armor of earthen style, covering the elder's upper body, with a relief of a huge gaping mouth on the chest.

The mouth relief eerily began to open and close upon hearing the command.

"Corpse Ghost, you damned bastard, if I weren't afraid of upsetting our lord's plans, I'd not care if you lived or died," it said.

"Fog Ghost can only temporarily detain those three, so hurry up and deal with this Taoist!"

After merging with the Mud Tendril, the white-haired elder's Yin Qi surged, and his aura instantly returned to its peak and even kept climbing.

Whether out of fear of the lord mentioned in the Mud Tendril's speech or guilt, the white-haired elder did not respond. Instead, he wielded his spine sword and met Yi Chen's Dragon-Slaying Sword head-on.

Boom!

A muffled sound.

This time, both Yi Chen and the white-haired elder each took three steps back.

The white-haired elder, seeing this, cackled, "Daoist, await your death."

"Weren't you very brave?"

"Weren't you very strong?"

"Come on, kill me!"

"How come you've suddenly become a weakling?"

"I want to see how long you can maintain this secret technique. When the time comes, I will slowly flay you alive, bit by bit."

While spouting this trash talk, the white-haired elder, wielding his spine sword, moved to meet Yi Chen.

It knew the scales of victory were slowly tilting in its favor.

Yi Chen frowned, clearly aware of these ghastly beings' plans.

Although he seemed to be keeping pace with the white-haired elder, the grey ribbon-like mist falling from the sky occasionally provided a boost to the elder, and slowly, Yi Chen started to feel overwhelmed.

Moreover, the Pure Yang surge's duration was also more than half over.

"This can't continue, I have to fight with all my might."

"Otherwise, if this goes on, the white-haired ghost will only get stronger."

"I must deal with this white-haired elder in the shortest time possible; otherwise, today, we'll all die here."

Yi Chen clenched his teeth tightly, a resolute determination rising in his heart as he poured all five Origin Points without reservation into the strength attribute among his four-dimensional attributes.

He did not even allocate a single point to stamina, for it was not a time for endurance battles but a need for an explosion of power, for strength.

With his unmatched formidable strength, coupled with the advantage of the Dragon-Slaying Sword, an ancient Pure Yang sword cultivated over generations by the masters of Hidden Dragon Temple, he was to achieve an effect greater than the sum of its parts.

Perhaps, what was missing to finally defeat the white-haired old demon was just that little bit more.

At their level, a half step more in strength could have a huge impact in real combat.

In an instant.

A warm current surged forth, continuously coursing through his entire body.

Every cell in Yi Chen's body began to cheer as if parched earth welcoming a sweet rain, greedily sucking up the warm current.

His height increased by another two centimeters, now standing over two meters tall; his fasciae, arms, thighs, abdomen, and the muscles around his neck began a new round of strengthening.

The warm current infiltrated his bones, which started to emit faint flashes of light under its influence, shimmering as if they were breathing.

By now, Yi Chen's strength attribute had reached 33.

Bang, bang, bang.

The Dragon-Slaying Sword and the backbone longsword clashed several more times.

The white-haired old man was starting to sense that something was wrong.

He discovered with horror that the towering Daoist before him had once again increased his momentum, and the already inhuman Divine Power was still growing stronger.

At the first clash, he stepped back one step.

At the second, he retreated two steps.

At the third, he stumbled back five steps.

He was becoming flustered.

"Taoist, let's call it quits for today, what do you say?"

Yi Chen remained silent, head down, hacking away fiercely.

"Taoist, I admit defeat today; don't overdo it. If you push me too hard, I have my Secret Techniques as well. Then everyone will be done for."

Yi Chen kept silent, head down, continuing to hack away fiercely.

The white-haired old man now had an expression as if he'd seen a ghost.

This Daoist, with the strength of a Ferocious Beast.

This persistent Pure Yang Inner Qi, like a stubborn disease in the bones.

This incomparably sharp Pure Yang sword, exceedingly restraining of the Yin Qi around his body.

When combined, these three aspects made him finally consider beating a retreat.

Looking at the towering figure before him, he couldn't help but feel a tingling in his scalp.

Even though he was holding his own head in his hands, it was still tingling.

Finally, he couldn't bear it any longer.

"Taoist, for fuck's sake, say something."

"Cultivation is hard; why fight to the death? If we both suffer, it benefits no one."

This time, Yi Chen stopped.

The white-haired old man felt a surge of joy, thinking the Taoist had finally come to his senses, which was not easy at all.

But soon, the smile on his face froze as Yi Chen's indifferent voice reached his ears.

"The poor Daoist only wishes to either kill you lot or be killed by you!"

"Come on, continue, let's decide who's superior as well as who lives and dies."

By then, the flow of warmth in his body had long dissipated, but Yi Chen's expression grew more fierce, a look of someone who greatly enjoyed the fight.

In each exchange with the white-haired old devil, Yi Chen naturally sustained some minor injuries, but his spirit became ever more vibrant, each collision like a hammer continuously forging and tempering his essence, energy, and spirit.

He even felt that his sixth level of the Minor Pure Yang Skill had advanced a small step forward, the light purple hue of his Pure Yang Inner Qi darkening ever so slightly.