178: Chapter 178 Wang Lin's Test (Part 3)

On the weapon rack, a blade began to tremble, then suddenly flew up.

The hilt landed accurately in Wang Lin's palm. The blade trembled slightly in his hand, emitting a crisp hum.

The spectator stands were silent for a moment, then erupted into an uproar.

"The... the blade flew over by itself?"

"What kind of ability is this? It's not telekinesis; telekinesis isn't like this..."

The people from the Council of Elders looked at each other. Huo Yan had seen this scene before, but seeing it again, his body still trembled involuntarily.

Lu Zhiyi's expression did not change at all, but her eyes shifted.

Han Tieshan was a Sacred Court Knight, a Level 5 Ancient Martial Artist with Qi and blood as thick as a mountain. Having experienced countless battles in his life, he would not retreat just because his opponent showed off a trick.

He gripped his heavy sword with both hands and raised it above his head. His Qi and blood circulated frantically within his body, and the luster on the sword grew heavier, like a piece of red-hot iron.

"Take my sword strike!"

The heavy sword slashed down.

There were no flashy moves, no unnecessary techniques; it was just a simple, straightforward downward slash.

But the power of this strike was enough to split a boulder.

Wang Lin gripped the blade with his right hand and swept it upward from below...

The first form of the Army-Breaker Blade Technique: Army-Breaker Slash.

The blade light and sword light collided. With a loud "Clang..." and sparks flying everywhere, the sound of metal clashing echoed throughout the Martial Arts Arena.

Wang Lin's blade caught Han Tieshan's heavy sword, and their forces stalemated in the air for a moment.

Han Tieshan's eyes widened suddenly; his heavy sword had been blocked.

To think he was actually blocked by a Level 4 Esper using an ordinary blade against his full-strength strike.

He felt as if his sword had struck a mountain, immovable.

Wang Lin looked at him, the corner of his mouth curling up slightly.

Then, his blade turned, sliding down along the edge of Han Tieshan's sword, emitting a harsh grinding sound as sparks splashed between them.

Han Tieshan had no choice but to retreat, otherwise, his fingers would have been sliced off.

Han Tieshan took three steps back to steady himself, his face turning ashen. A deep scratch had been left on his heavy sword.

"Is that it?" Wang Lin said.

Han Tieshan's face flushed red.

Just then, a silver light flew in from the side, fast as lightning.

Shen Qingfeng had made his move. He hadn't moved the whole time, just waiting for an opportunity.

Han Tieshan had drawn Wang Lin's attention, creating an opening on the side. His sword, like a ray of light, thrust toward Wang Lin's ribs.

Wang Lin did not turn around. His blade swept over from the right, as if it had eyes, accurately blocking Shen Qingfeng's sword.

"Clang—" Another crisp sound rang out as Shen Qingfeng's sword was deflected.

His movement technique was light. After being deflected, he flipped in the air and landed steadily before striking again, this time even faster.

Wang Lin's blade met the attack.

One blade against two swords. Han Tieshan attacked fiercely from the front while Shen Qingfeng roamed from the side—one strong and fierce, the other swift and agile—their coordination becoming increasingly seamless.

Wang Lin's blade wove back and forth between the two, not losing ground, but also not gaining any advantage.

On the spectator stands, some people whispered.

"One against two, and he's not losing ground..."

"Is he really Level 4?"

"His blade technique... doesn't look like someone who only saw the blade manual for the first time yesterday..."

Huo Yan listened to these discussions without speaking. But he knew that Wang Lin had indeed seen the blade manual for the first time yesterday; I had watched him.

Han Tieshan and Shen Qingfeng attacked for over twenty moves, yet they still couldn't take down Wang Lin.

Sweat began to bead on Han Tieshan's forehead. His consumption of Qi and blood was immense; every strike used his full strength, yet Wang Lin always managed to block it.

Shen Qingfeng's Speed had been pushed to the limit, and the sword light had woven a net around Wang Lin.

But Wang Lin's blade always managed to pass through the gaps in the net, blocking his most critical strike.

The two exchanged a glance, seeing the same thing in each other's eyes: shock...

At this moment, Wen Yanghao moved. His sword thrust out from a bizarre angle, silent and soundless, like a snake lurking in the shadows.

His Qi and blood perception locked onto every one of Wang Lin's movements. The moment Wang Lin blocked Han Tieshan's heavy sword and prepared to parry Shen Qingfeng's fast sword, his sword thrust in from behind Wang Lin.

A combined attack from the three.

Wang Lin felt the pressure.

Han Tieshan's heavy sword constrained his front, Shen Qingfeng's fast sword sealed his side, and Wen Yanghao's tricky sword thrust from his blind spot.

Three people, three different sword techniques, three different rhythms, perfectly interwoven together.

Wang Lin took a step back, drawing a circle with his blade in front of him to block the three's attacks, then used the momentum to leap backward, creating distance.

He stood on the other side of the Martial Arts Arena, looking at the three people opposite him, and dropped the blade in his hand to the ground.

There was another commotion on the spectator stands: "He threw the blade away?"

"Giving up?"

"No... look at his hands..."

Wang Lin's hands hung at his sides, and then his fingers began to change.

A metallic luster appeared on the surface of his skin. His fingertips became sharp, and his fingers grew longer and thinner, extending out like vines, swaying slightly in the air.

His hands transformed into two Tentacles—not flesh-and-blood Tentacles, but Tentacles with a metallic texture, gleaming with a cold light.

But it wasn't over. Two rips appeared on the back of Wang Lin's clothes, and four new Tentacles extended from the position of his shoulder blades, just like his hands, gleaming with a metallic luster, slowly moving in the air.

Six Tentacles. Each one was over two meters long, the end of each was as sharp as a blade, and each was trembling slightly, waiting for orders.

Use a blade? How could using a blade be as convenient as his own Tentacles?

What was that about the unity of person and blade? His own Tentacles were already one with him; no unity was needed.

The Martial Arts Arena went completely silent.

Han Tieshan's hand gripping the heavy sword was trembling. He could feel it—each of those six Tentacles was like a blade, and each was a different blade technique.

He felt six different blade intents on Wang Lin: fierce, elegant, swift, tricky, steady, and sharp; six kinds of blade intent appearing on one person simultaneously.

"What the hell kind of monster is this..." Shen Qingfeng muttered in a low voice.

Wen Yanghao didn't speak; his Qi and blood perception had been completely thrown into chaos...

Wang Lin's Qi and blood flow was no longer that of one person, but of six—six directions, six rhythms, six frequencies. His perception could not lock onto six targets simultaneously.

Wang Lin stood in the center of the Martial Arts Arena, his six Tentacles unfurled behind him like a peacock spreading its tail, like the wings of a demon king.

He looked at the three people opposite him, the corner of his mouth curling up slightly: "Come again."

Han Tieshan gritted his teeth and charged forward with his sword raised.

The heavy sword slashed down, and one of the Tentacles behind Wang Lin met it. "Clang—" it blocked the heavy sword.

Another Tentacle thrust from the side toward Han Tieshan's ribs, and he had no choice but to retreat.