"Clang!"
The crisp metallic clash, fierce and violent, reverberated melodiously throughout the entire camp.
The flying sword, speeding through the air like a golf ball struck by a swiftly swung club, suddenly veered off course and plunged heavily to the ground, burying itself in the dirt.
Emilio Compton's face paled as if drained of blood, and a trickle of blood seeped from the corner of his mouth.
Connected by spirit to his flying sword, Carson Flores's strike was akin to a heavy hammer blow to Emilio's mind. For a moment, spiritual energy surged chaotically, nearly leading to a collapse.
With a muffled groan, Emilio forcibly gathered his wits, flicked his fingers, and attempted to control the flying sword to lift off again.
The flying sword, like a snake hit in its vital spot, twisted on the ground, struggling to break free and rise into the air. However, before it could escape the earth's grasp, Carson had already stomped down on it.
