NOVEL NEXT Chapter 439: Whittling The Numbers
As one of the Mist Eye Sect's Qi Refining disciples staggered back, his arm smoking from a direct strike, Han Yu flicked his wrist. A needle of condensed soul qi shot forward, piercing the youth's consciousness. The boy froze, his eyes rolling back for a split second.
That was all it took.
A bolt from an altar slammed into him, lifting him off his feet and hurling him against the far wall with a sickening crunch. He did not rise after that.
"One down."
Han Yu moved again, his spirit sense locked onto the faint marks of Qi.
He struck at those whose movements faltered, choosing moments when the altars themselves would finish the job. A second soul needle, this time aimed at a disciple desperately trying to form a defensive seal. The man stiffened and a bolt burned straight through his chest, leaving a gaping hole.
"Haha!"
The chaos was absolute and Han Yu thrived in it.
To his companions, it seemed like luck or ruthless precision.
Han Yu continued targeting the foes with merciless accuracy, timing his strikes with the altars' bolts.
Within minutes, four of the Mist Eye Sect's Qi Refining disciples were down, their bodies blackened husks or broken corpses on the chamber floor.
"Damn him!" one of the Mist Eye Sect's Core Condensation disciples roared, slamming a spear into the ground.
He tried to force his way toward Han Yu, but the moment his mark appeared, a bolt seared across his leg, making him stagger.
Han Yu took his chance. He surged forward, fist glowing faintly with Qi. "Bolt God Fist!"
His strike connected with the staggering disciple's side, sending him tumbling across the chamber just in time for another bolt to pierce his chest. The man collapsed, twitching once before going still.
On the opposite flank, Xuan Qing had caught onto Han Yu's strategy.
She spun gracefully, her sword slicing through the smoke and light as she baited one disciple into stepping into the path of another bolt. The man tried to deflect it, but she pressed him hard enough with her wind skills that his defense slipped.
The bolt struck, and his body fell smoking to the ground.
Senior Brother Duan mirrored her success, using his spear to trip another opponent into stumbling back. A bolt caught the man in the stomach, and Duan's follow-up strike ended him swiftly.
Bit by bit, the Mist Eye Sect's numbers dwindled.
They were still twenty strong, with three at the peak of Core Condensation, but the battlefield was no longer in their control. The altars struck without care for allegiance, yet Han Yu's group had adapted quickly enough to use them as weapons.
Han Yu drew back into the barrier, sweat soaking his back, his eyes cold and sharp. His chest rose and fell, but his spirit sense remained stretched outward, never letting the flow of Qi marks slip from his awareness. Each one that appeared was an opportunity.
His group huddled close, still dodging frantically, but some had begun to see the rhythm now. The fear in their eyes had dulled slightly, replaced by grim focus.
Han Yu let his gaze drift back to the Mist Eye Sect.
They were still strong, far too strong for comfort. Yet the sight of their fallen disciples gnawed at their morale. For every Twin Leaf Peak disciple still standing, there were now fewer Mist Eye Sect disciples to overwhelm them.
It was not enough to tilt the battle fully in their favor, but it was a start.
Han Yu's lips curved into the faintest of smiles. In a place where raw strength alone could not prevail, cunning and patience carved the path forward.
The battle was far from over. The altars roared, their bolts raining down without end. And yet, within that chaos, Han Yu had found the faintest glimmer of control.
Bolts of raw energy flew through the air in every direction, their crackling light painting the shifting stone walls in violent flashes.
The ten altars scattered about the chamber blazed with a malicious radiance, discharging strike after strike without pause. Everyone inside was forced into a frantic dance of survival, dodging, rolling, and deflecting what attacks they could.
Whenever a Mist Eye Sect disciple staggered from a bolt, Han Yu pounced.
When the enemy was far, Han Yu's fists would dart forward with the force of the Bolt God Fist and when they were close, his Halberd would come down in the Falling Leaf Stance. Regardless of the attack though, his soul needles would take the chance to strike like invisible serpents piercing their spirits, and his strikes landed with deadly precision.
He turned the chaos of the hall into his weapon, letting the altars do half the work while he finished what they started.
But while Han Yu, Xuan Qing and Senior Brother Duan were taking down enemies, the others in Han Yu's group were not so fortunate.
They were too pressed for breath, too occupied with dodging bolts in the cramped barrier, and had no leeway to adopt Han Yu's methods. Still, they trusted his sharp eyes and quick decisions, following his lead where they could.
The Mist Eye Sect disciples, however, were quick to adapt too.
Their numbers had nearly been halved, and those who remained were no longer confident or arrogant. Fear and anger burned in their eyes, but alongside it was sharp focus. They had noticed that the majority of the fallen had one thing in common: they were all targeted by Han Yu.
Even Meng Jueyan was surprised by Han Yu's precise strikes. She had been pretending to stay back, while avoiding the attacks, and Han Yu had also not attacked her outright. He still pretended to strike near her, missing as if it were just unfortunate.
In the chaos, no one noticed that Meng Jueyan had avoided all of Han Yu's attacks, which even some of the Core Condensation realm disciples had not managed to do so.
Still, this did cement one thing...
That junior, the one they had dismissed as an afterthought, was the spearhead of the enemy's counterattack.