Jiuyang was forced to fall into the water and formed a formation with his fingers.
The formation blocked the sharp sword intent, but forced him to retreat uncontrollably towards the shore.
According to the prior agreement, once he lands on the shore, the bet will be lost.
In just three short moves, with a little negligence, Sanbo seized the opportunity to pursue the victory. How could Jiuyang be convinced? How could he be willing to do so?
He raised his head and roared in anger, his body sank, and his legs bent with the help of the rebound, like a straight line riding the wind and waves.
Don't retreat but advance, risk your life for your life.
It was a bet, but it was related to whether he had a chance to escape from the Demon Killing Pond, so he had no choice but to fight for it.
On the other hand, the same is true for San Bo.
The cultivation of the seventeenth level of martial arts is fully revealed, and there is no reservation.
The two of you come and go, you advance and I retreat.
Only an afterimage can be seen, and it is difficult to see the true body.
At a certain moment, the afterimages overlapped and then quickly separated in an instant.
Jiuyang was panting and seemed exhausted.
San Bo bowed down, his chest rising and falling.
"Twenty moves, how long can you hold on?" Sanbo rubbed his cheeks, a trace of scarlet flowing from his nose.
I was horrified to see it, San Bo, he was actually injured?
What about Jiuyang? How come he is intact?
How did he gain the upper hand when his cultivation level was clearly inferior to that of Third Uncle?
Although Jiuyang and I share the same physical body, the speed of the fight just now was too fast.
With my mortal eyes, it is almost difficult to catch every move.
To be precise, there is more than enough heart but not enough strength.
"Wow."
On my side, I was still worried about Sanbo's injury. On the other side, Jiuyang's Adam's apple was rolling and blood was spraying out as he was breathing hard.
After finishing the meal, he seemed languid and his momentum declined.
"With the endless pressure of the Taixuan Sword to fight me, you can't win." Jiuyang mocked: "What's the difference between this and you holding the Taixuan Sword?"
Sanbo said seriously: "There is a difference. If I had taken the Taixuan Sword in the twenty moves just now, it would be impossible for you to still be standing now."
Jiuyang was speechless for a moment, turned sideways and spat out: "If we fight fair and square, Taixuan Sword Qi is really cheating, it's not fair."
He changed his voice and said passionately: "The remaining thirty moves only rely on physical combat with brute force, no magic, do you dare?"
Sanbo said calmly: "I don't dare."
Jiuyang smiled and raised his middle finger fiercely.
The third uncle said disapprovingly: "I am in the right place at the right time. I can give up the Taixuan Sword and play with you for a while, which is an extrajudicial favor."
"People's hearts are not as good as snakes swallowing elephants. Don't treat me like a fool who has never seen the world."
"After all, I want to know the way to get rid of the inner demons from your mouth."
"The agreement is in effect. It's something you and I agree on. How can there be any reason to change the rules midway?"
"You want to take a gamble, I satisfied you. Next, it's your turn to satisfy me."
Jiuyang frowned and said: "Two grown men, don't talk about contentment or dissatisfaction, it sounds disgusting."
Sanbo felt the same and said, "It's really disgusting. When I think about you, you might have been a leprosy with sores all over your body. My anus is tightening."
Jiuyang said blankly: "Chrysanthemum?"
The third uncle covered his buttocks and pointedly said: "That eye."
Jiuyang was angry, his face turned from pale to flushed. He wiped off the blood on his lower lip, strode forward and said: "Death."
Sanbo waved his hand and said: "Wrong, it's shit. Come and read with me, shi, the third tone."
As the headmaster of Ziwei 1,900 years ago and now the founder of Ziwei, has Jiuyang ever been so humiliated?
His eyes were filled with dark red craziness, containing endless killing intent.
One step out, thunderous.
"Twenty-one move." The third uncle calmly spread his palms.
...
"Twenty-five moves."
"Thirty moves."
"Weak, as weak as a piece of grass."
"The great ancestor of Ziwei, this is bullshit."
"I don't have a sword in my hand, but I have a sword in my heart."
"The Taixuan Sword is me, and I am also the Taixuan Sword."
"What is the thirty-sixth sword technique of Dancing Demons? What is the Supreme Forgetfulness?"
"Can you take this sword?"
San Bo rose into the air, and his body was like smoke and dust, disintegrating inch by inch.