He gripped the hilt of his long sword and stepped steadily on the stone slab, avoiding gaps and protrusions, making sure that he could borrow the power of the earth at any time. Ning Que stared at the tea expert like a statue, there was no fear in his eyes, only composure and concentration.

It was the first time in his life that he had fought against a cultivator alone, and he knew that he had little chance of winning. Normally, he would be scared because he knew very well that he would most likely die tonight.

However, having been tortured by death many times, Ning Que knew very well that in this case, fear was the most useless state of mind. His only option is to turn his fear and nervousness into excitement in order to survive the deadly conditions.

The flying sword buzzed towards him, and he swung it down. Even if he misses anything, he can still avoid injuries to critical parts of his body thanks to the fighting instincts he cultivated on the battlefield and his strong body control in critical moments.

The clanging sword, as fast as a flying knife and as white as snow, left countless dense wounds on his body with shadows. Then, blood seeped into his panties, seeped into his old robes, and began to drip onto the surface of his body, which made him a bloody man.

But Ning Que, whose feet were still nailed to the stone slab, still held his pods tightly with both hands, staring at the strong man on the chair with expressionless eyes. He showed no panic, no fear, not even a desperate situation.

"Soldiers from the border fortress?"

Yan Suqing gradually retracted her smile, looked at the bloody young man in front of her, and said calmly: "The fourteen swords didn't kill you directly, they only left you with some minor injuries." Only border guards have this physical instinct. But be aware that even if the wound is small and the blood flow is slow, if it doesn't stop, you will still die.

"I know, so I have to find a chance to cut off your head before I lose all my blood," Ning Que replied.

"You're not going to have that chance." Yan Suqing shook her head sympathetically at Ning Que.

At this time, the water on the small charcoal stove finally began to bubble, and hot mist spewed out from the mouth of the kettle.

The tea expert holds up the kettle with his left hand and pours the water into the coarse teacup. Looking at the tea leaves fluttering up and down in the boiling water, he lowered his head and said, "I'll go for morning tea now." Then, it's game over.

In the border city, along the way, in the old brush shop and many other places, Ning Que told Sang Sang many times that even if he couldn't cultivate, he, the young master, could still use his skillful sword technique to defeat the enemy. However, at least for the time being, this seemingly sonorous declaration can only be a spiritual consolation or spiritual masturbation to a greater extent.

He understood how incredible the abilities of those powerhouses in the cultivation world were, and he never expected that he would be able to defeat a cultivator in a face-to-face battle, not to mention that the person in front of him was obviously a swordsman who had at least stepped into the Traceless Realm.

In his first battle with a cultivator, all he could rely on was some indirect experience, so he didn't have much hope and didn't fall into despair. He has always believed that only the dead can despair.

On the charcoal stove, the boiling water emits steam, and the hot water is poured into the teacup. Ning Que looked at the picture carefully, observing Yan Suqing's every movement, including his shoulders and hands, thus ignoring the opponent's words that might weaken his will to fight. When he saw this man pouring tea, his eyes suddenly lit up.

He held the teacup with all his fingers, leaving no one else to form the sword technique. Ning Que's legs, which were firmly nailed to the ground, tightened at the moment and pushed his body forward. The long pod in his hand condensed all his strength and formed a fierce tiger to pounce on the front attack!

Feeling the gust of wind rushing towards his face, looking at the young soldier who was dragging behind Bodao and had no way out, Yan Suqingga's eyes showed a look of pity and mockery. He stretched his right hand out of his cuff and spread his fingers to gently draw a brush in the night breeze.

There was a whistling wind from the small house by the lake, it was not the torrent rolled up by Ning Que's attack, but the sound of some kind of force tearing in the middle of the night. The faint sword shadow that inexplicably disappeared into the darkness behind him suddenly made a violent buzzing sound, and it rushed from front to back incredibly, and in an instant, it directly pierced through the darkness and stabbed towards Ning Que's back!

After a sudden silence, the torrent of bamboo leaves on the bamboo wall scattered in all directions in panic, and after suddenly condensing, the hot mist around the charcoal stove gradually settled on the ground. Time on the lawn in the yard seems to be a big step slower.

Could it be that this is the strength of the Juggernaut's full attack?

Feeling the absolute coldness behind him, and the sharpness that broke his heart even if he didn't touch him, Ning Que sighed that the hand of death was about to reach his back soon.

But he didn't look back or dodge. He continued to pounce on him like a tiger and run forward, knowing that there was no way back and that there was no point in dodging at such a close distance. At this moment, all he can do is keep running, which is his last hope for survival.

Rushing two steps in front of Yan Suqing, Ning Que stared into his eyes, stared at his neck, crossed his hands, concentrated all his strength on his water chestnut, and slashed it fiercely, ignoring the breath of death on the back of his neck!

Facing the swift and ferocious slash head-on, Yan Suqing was about to sip the tea from the teacup he had just raised with his left hand, without the slightest expression on his face. In the Sea of Nature's Breath, he had clearly felt that the handleless mini sword under the control of his spiritual power had flashed onto Ning Que's back, and this young man's sword was about to die if he fell.

There were three feet between Ning Que's neck and Yan Suqing's neck.

And there was a foot gap between Yan Suqing's flying sword and Ning Que's back.

The flying sword controlled by the cultivator moved faster than any knife under the control of the most skilled swordsman in the world.

No matter how he calculated, even if Ning Que bravely struggled for a chance to survive, he would have to lose his life pitifully, but it would not hurt Yan Suqing.

Then, Ning Que responded, in fact, he didn't die.

Taking advantage of the momentum of the attack, he secretly let go of his left hand, which naturally reached behind his back and grasped a piece of hard object that popped out of the cloth cover.

That's the handle of the big black umbrella.

...

...

His slender fingers crossed his grip on the handle, and the coarse cloth that wrapped the umbrella suddenly twisted. Its hard cloth arched up, then was torn in the blink of an eye, revealing a few black strokes inside. The black brushstrokes swirled and tore the fabric apart, like a black dragon that had been silent for a long time and then suddenly raised its head from the ground. More and more coarse cloth is split, thus exposing the black more and more, gradually gathering into a black umbrella.

As it rotated, the black umbrella unfolded as its size increased, and a large black flower that had just been assembled bloomed instantly in the condensed spring breeze. "Bang!" , it opened to cover Ning Que's back, which also helped to fend off the faint sword shadow that buzzed.

Yan Suqing had already condensed all her spiritual power and turned into a deadly sword shadow, with incredible power. However, the unthinkable happened when the handleless mini-sword stabbed the surface of the large, seemingly greasy black umbrella, and there was nothing special.

From the surface of the umbrella there was neither a tearing sound nor a violent crash.

An incomparably sharp flying sword that stabs a black surface falls like a fallen leaf into an endless dark swamp, or a weary mosquito lies silently on an ancient black plaque.

The buzzing flying sword, which vibrated so high that it seemed to stick to the surface of the big black umbrella, suddenly ended in absolute silence.

After a while, the fallen leaves slowly sank into the boundless black swamp, leaving no trace, and the exhausted mosquitoes lay on the old black plaque, or rather, came to the end of their lives.

The originally agile and sharp handleless mini-sword seemed to have lost all its vitality and slowly fell from the large black umbrella to the ground.

...

...

In the qi of heaven and earth, it seems that a string has been broken.

Unable to interact with his innate sword, Yan Suqing's expression suddenly changed, and a sharp whistle burst out from between his lips. He let go of the thick teacup with his left hand, put his palms together, and caught the blade that Ning Que slashed at him with one hand!