Dragon Heart. Land Of Magic. Litrpg Wuxia Saga. Book 6 - Volume 1 Chapter 17 438

Before the dead archer’s body finished collapsing to the ground, blood and viscera spraying everywhere, all the other archers took aim at the fog-shrouded figure. Their bowstrings sang in perfect unison.

Four fire feathers, whirling like drills, shot at Hadjar. His sword, leaving an arc of dark mist behind it, floated through the air. Two crescents overlapped into an X shape and rushed to meet the arrow-feathers. The archers grinned. They used their energy and their eyes flashed. Hadjar felt an unfamiliar sensation, the presence of the Bow Spirit. At the same time, two of the arrows vibrated and split into dozens of non-illusory copies.

The nearest arrow also tried to multiply, but instead disappeared in a flash of darkness, destroyed by Hadjar’s crescents. The remaining arrow, as if possessing a mind of its own, seemed to skirt around the crescents. Hadjar watched in bewilderment as the enemies’ arrows circ.u.mvented his counterattack and flew toward his heart.

“Calm Wind,” Hadjar said.

The ground around him sagged as if a giant elephant had stepped on it. The archers’ Techniques lost almost half their speed. However, they were still smiling. Even if Hadjar now had enough time to repel the looping arrow-feather, the other ones would turn him into a porcupine. Hadjar understood this, too. His thoughts raced at an insane speed. He didn’t have time to fight off the guided arrow and dodge the others. And even if he dodged the shower of arrows, he would still be impaled by the looping Technique. There was only one way out.

Grabbing the edges of his dark fog cloak, Hadjar spun on his heels. The cultivators watched in disbelief as their foe was momentarily covered in the black fog. The arrow that had cut through the air was caught by this swirl of black fog. Suddenly, the vortex of darkness stopped. He shot out his left hand. The edge of the hideous cloak held in it straightened, and the arrow-feather flew backward.

Even so, after redirecting the attack, the swordsman now had no time to repel or dodge the hail of arrows. However, as it turned out, he didn’t intend to try.

The downward pressure of the wind increased. The ground, with another crack, sank deeper. Now, even those who weren’t standing near the swordsman found it harder to breathe. They felt as if they’d lost almost a tenth of their power resisting the pressure of the wind.

Hadjar pushed off from the ground. The sheer force of his leap caused cracks to spread outward in a spider web pattern. Lightly, like a leaf floating in the wind, he dropped the toe of his foot onto a flying fire feather. He’d done a similar trick once before, so he knew what to do. However, his opponents were clearly facing such a trick for the first time. Before they could react, the fire feather rounded the wall of arrows and carried Hadjar straight toward the archer who’d launched it. The cultivator, not believing his own eyes, got his own Technique rammed directly into his open mouth. The feather broke through and out the back of his head, getting lodged in a nearby tree. Hadjar, however, pushed off from the drooping head of the suddenly dead archer and landed directly between the two remaining archers.

Hadjar landed so hard his feet dug into the cold stone up to his ankles. The edges of his fog cloak spread out, covering everything in a five-yard radius around him in a thick haze. With a wave of his hand and an effort of will, the mysteries of the Sword Spirit flew into this veil. To a Wielder, everything was a sword — a stick, a bit of grass, a drop of water, a gust of wind, or a cloak of black fog summoned by their Call.

The wisps of darkness thickened, and then two black blades shot out. One of the archers didn’t even have time to react. Even among the ordinary disciples of ‘The Holy Sky’ School, there were few Wielders. Power sometimes didn’t come with the wisdom needed to wield it, and truly Wielding weapons required both wisdom and a deep understanding of one’s Spirit’s path.

Pierced by the misty blade, the archer jerked a couple of times, and when the blade that had killed him dissipated, his body collapsed to the ground. Dark blood flowed down into the ravine where Einen was fighting.

His rainbow-armored ape was pressing his enemies, but since they’d felt the full power of the unfamiliar Technique, they weren’t planning to charge in for a frontal assault. They harassed Einen, attacking from a medium distance. A boy, no more than twenty years old (the islander determined his age not by his foe’s appearance, but by his aura), swung a heavy sword. No more than six feet tall, he used a giant sword that was twelve inches wide, five inches thick, and more than two yards long. It must’ve weighed at least six hundred pounds. The powerful warrior’s muscles bulged with every swing he made, standing out like boulders.

Heavy swords were one of the rarest weapons. Inherently difficult to wield, they demanded not just a talent for the path of the Sword Spirit from their owner, but also a high proficiency in Techniques for Strengthening the Body.

Anyone who reached the level of a true cultivator could lift three times more weight than before, but they couldn’t use such unwieldy weapons in battle. Any missteps could lead to a severe, even fatal, injury. At the same time, if a cultivator reached a certain skill level in wielding a heavy sword, they became one of the most frightening opponents you could ever face. Their attacks would have such crushing power that they easily compensated for any slowness, and their pressure became so terrible that it completely negated the need for protection. A single direct hit from a mid-stage Heaven Soldier wielding a heavy sword could kill even a Spirit Knight.

“Rage of the Rhino!” The cultivator shouted.

He made two sweeping slashes with his monstrous blade. A mighty wave of power appeared, so immense that it tore up huge chunks of earth and uprooted stones as it surged toward Einen. Both of these attacks created streams of power coming in from different directions. When they met in the center, they formed a vortex of power. It nearly uprooted the ground they were all standing on. It stretched out and took the shape of a rhinoceros horn.

It was a huge horn, bearing down with incredible force. It was at least thirteen feet long and seven feet wide.

However, the foes didn’t stop there. Two adepts with clubs attacked with their weapons as well. Their Techniques looked like huge, ghostly maces. They followed right behind the horn.

The sight of this attack enraged Einen. Plunging his staff-spear into the ground, he roared and poured two-thirds of his power into the Technique. The shadow ape beat its mighty chest. It expanded and grew, and its paws gradually began to solidify. Sweat rolled down Einen’s forehead.

He wasn’t able to fully call forth his totem beast, but even so, the mighty ape in rainbow armor was able to block the horn. The force of their collision was so great that Einen couldn’t protect himself from it and the echo of the clash harmed his body. Spitting out blood, the islander kept going. The horn sank into the body of one of their foes. After a direct hit, nothing remained of the man, only his crumpled silver token which fell to the ground.

The islander ignored the two manifestations of crushing power. Reaching into his pocket, he popped two alchemical pills into his mouth. The explosion of energy in Einen’s body created such a vortex of power that the edges of his clothes fluttered. Both ghostly maces struck where he’d been standing. A crater with a diameter of several yards was revealed once the dust settled. However, the islander was no longer there.

Directly behind one of the foes, a ten-foot-tall ape appeared, covering him with its huge shadow. With a mighty snarl, it struck the dazed young man with savage speed and power. The body of the young boy, who only last year had been so proud that he’d become an ordinary disciple, flew through the air like a ragdoll and landed on the edge of the ravine, right next to the corpse that had been impaled by the fog blade a moment ago.

Hadjar, without a moment’s hesitation, charged the last archer.