Rusty Dragon

The protracted 'witch hunting' had faded into silence with the end of the Seven Years' War,  and the mysteries of the East Coast had begun to conceal themselves, yet gunpowder was on a rapid rise.
Mo Qishang, who should have been utterly confounded, stood at the crossroads of destiny in the name of Arthur. He stared in astonishment at the charging knights, the wizards atop the high towers, and the bizarre wilderness. He felt the sharpness of the longsword and the recoil of the firearm, both clear and unfamiliar. At last, he excitedly shook his robe and, with a smile on his face, said—
"Do not believe what I say, for to believe is to exist!"

They all call me Great Master

The sword Qi was pale, its sharpness unmatched.


The breath of death filled the air, shattering the ground.


Not only was the ground beneath Arthur's feet sliced apart, but the six layers of defenses arrayed within were shattered upon contact, failing to offer any resistance whatsoever.


Even more so, the sword Qi that Arthur swung with his hand became sharper and more formidable.


All these six layers of defense were constructed of death Qi.


When Arthur unleashed the "Breath of Death," these defenses essentially ceased to exist.


And then, surging with the "Death Qi Slash."


A unique brilliance flashed and was gone.


From the split corpse, a semi-transparent soul floated up.


Standing over the scene, Arthur looked down.


The young 'Spirit Medium' gazed with interest through the cut he had made, surveying everything in sight—


Chapter 392: Got it!