Late is better than never

"What's the matter Mr. God of Slaughter?! Not so confident now, are we?!?!", a tone full of ridicule and mocking escaped the berserk Linghun Mo as the ray disappeared and he flew a bit up in a majestic pose as the wind and rain intensified around him, the flashes of lightning in the heavy clouds above becoming more frequent.

"Thorns of Anguish!"

Dozens of thorns made of blood formed around him, hardening and glowing with crimson patterns, and then shot toward Wu Long who dodged most and cut down a few, the shards of the thorns he cut resembling metal as they fell to the ground.

Linghun Mo then flew toward Wu Long, with the speed the latter could not escape from, making a random slash.

*Clang!*

Two sabers collided, but the one at disadvantage was Wu Long this time, retreating a bit, as the difference in pure brute strength and speed grew too big for skill to play as big a role.