The battlefield, once desolate, now pulsed with the clash of divine energies. The air crackled with raw power, the scent of ozone hanging thick in the air.
Xiao Shou's white spear, a blur of white light, danced defensively against Bei Cong's relentless assault. Each clang of metal sent vibrations through the ground, threatening to destroy the tomb.
Xiao Shou, his movements smooth and calculated, deflected another blow from the black sword. But this time, Bei Cong followed through with a brutal kick, aiming for Xiao Shou's midsection.
However, anticipation flickered in Xiao Shou's eyes. With a deft maneuver, he ducked under the kick, using the momentum to spin behind Bei Cong.
Ripppp—
In a flash, the white spear transformed. Its solid form seemed to melt, then solidify again, now a long, coiling whip.
