King's Awakening Chapter 757

Chapter 757: Chapter 757: Slaying the Old Beggar Part Two

Upon seeing this, not only did White Mitchell not weaken his offensive, but actually became more fierce. His sword momentum was like a sudden storm, repeatedly hacking at the old beggar and forcing him to retreat, leaving him barely clinging to life.

The old beggar knew he was trapped by White Mitchell, however, he didn't want to admit defeat so easily. He took a deep breath, a strange power welled up within him, and with a slight ripple of his body, he steadied his footing.

A strong force came from the old beggar's hand and the hook trembled again, but this time, it didn't break. The old beggar was as steady as Mount Tai, repelling all of White Mitchell's attacks with this force.

White Mitchell, seeing this, was secretly shocked. He hadn't expected the old beggar to be possessing such immense power. He once again focused his Qi, his sword momentum becoming even more ferocious, aiming to defeat the old beggar.

But the old beggar didn't back down again. He took a deep breath, all his strength seemed to be concentrated on his body. He fixated his gaze on White Mitchell, revealing a trace of determination in his eyes.

White Mitchell turned every sword into a sky full of sword rain, but the old beggar slightly shifted his body, effortlessly sidestepping the sword momentum. Instead of directly resisting, he effectively neutralized White Mitchell's attacks by dodging and counterattacking with precision.

The spectators were amazed, even the usually proud disciples of the Sword Sect widened their eyes in surprise. White Mitchell was their hero, and the old beggar was just an apparently unimportant beggar-no one had thought that there would be such a shocking duel between them.

As time ticked away, the duel between White Mitchell and the old beggar intensified. Their exchanges were both fierce and splendid; every move of theirs was extremely sharp, yet absolutely precise.

During the intense confrontation, White Mitchell suddenly unleashed a unique skill. He blinked and rushed forward, his sword momentum was extremely fierce, aiming straight for the old beggar's chest.

The old beggar's eyes narrowed, he nimbly dodged White Mitchell's sword momentum and then counterattacked with a faster speed. His hook shot out like a snake darting out of its hole, aiming directly for White Mitchell's key points.

White Mitchell instantly became tense, sensing the breath of death. He quickly adjusted his posture, spun his body, and avoided the attack of the hook.

Between their intertwining techniques, a splendidly breathtaking scene was formed. Their bodies crisscrossed over the valley, with the sword light and the hook shadow slicing through the air, producing sharp, piercing sounds.

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After a fervent collision of moves, White Mitchell gradually noticed the strength of the old beggar. Although the old beggar was elderly, his movements were exceptionally agile, and his strength far exceeded ordinary people. White Mitchell began to contemplate counter-measures; he knew he needed to find the old beggar's weak spot in order to stand a chance of victory.

Suddenly, White Mitchell became more agile, avoiding direct encounters with the old beggar and resorting to long-range attacks. He darted forward launching one sword after another at the old beggar, who maneuvered skillfully, cleverly dodging White Mitchell's attacks.

Their silhouettes intermittently appeared and disappeared within the valley, sometimes close, sometimes far. Attacks and defenses were almost simultaneously carried out between them, the situation being incredibly fierce.

At this moment, the old beggar suddenly triggered his ultimate move. With a flash, he skillfully evaded White Mitchell's attack, then leaped forcefully and landed right next to White Mitchell.

White Mitchell instantly felt a great threat. He quickly adjusted his posture, trying to dodge the old beggar's attack. But it was too late, the old beggar mercilessly smashed toward the chest of White Mitchell.

White Mitchell reacted extremely quickly. He retreated and swung his sword to defend at the same time. Sparks flew as White Mitchell's sword intersected with the old beggar's hook, flashing a cold light.

The old beggar didn't let up at all. On one hand, he attacked while on the other he quietly channelled his inner strength, making his movements even more agile. His figure moved freely, sometimes rising into the air, sometimes dodging nimbly, like a cunning cheetah.

White Mitchell felt the terrifying strength of the old beggar and couldn't help being somewhat surprised. He had not noticed earlier that the old beggar possessed such extraordinary martial arts, and his attack rhythm was unusually awkward, leaving White Mitchell with difficulty in responding.

In the instant when the swords crossed, White Mitchell suddenly spun around, evading the deadly strike from the old beggar. He immediately counterattacked, elegantly unleashing an Eagle Claw Hand, aimed at the old beggar's vital points.

Without showing any signs of weakness, the old beggar lifted a fist, blocking White Mitchell's attack. His fist carried a heavy force. White Mitchell felt a piercing pain and was nearly blown back.

The fight between the two was getting ferocious. White Mitchell took full advantage of the location, with its rugged rocks favorable for him to quickly dodge the old beggar's attacks and counterattack. However, the old beggar's prowess was more profound, his stability was stronger, and he was able to use the surrounding environment to create more opportunities for himself.

White Mitchell's movement was agile and his swordsmanship exquisite, but he knew that if he could not find the old beggar's weakness and infiltrate his defense line soon, it would be difficult to change the outcome of the battle.

Blinking an eye, White Mitchell violently unleashed a surge of tremendous inner strength. His body shot out like a lightning bolt towards the old beggar. The sword in his hand emitted an icy glow, aimed at the old beggar's left shoulder.

The old beggar broke into a slight smile. With a grace forged by facing danger without losing his calm, he sidestepped White Mitchell's attack, swiftly turned around, seized White Mitchell's left hand, and a burst of immense power washed over White Mitchell in an instant.

All strength drained from White Mitchell, his mind blank. The old beggar had him in his grasp, depriving him of his ability to move.

The old beggar shot a glance at White Mitchell and sneered, “So, the young whelp has his day.” With a fierce yell, he threw White Mitchell forcefully to the ground.

White Mitchell's face was ashen, but his eyes did not waver. He knew that at this moment, perseverance and a determined fight were his only means to change the tide.

With all his strength, White Mitchell rose to his feet, clenched his teeth, and glared at the old beggar. He stood defiant, his fighting spirit high.

A hint of wariness flashed in the old beggar's eyes. He did not drop his guard. At the same time, he deeply acknowledged White Mitchell's talent and no longer underestimated his opponent.

White Mitchell's inner strength whirled rapidly within him, his bones creaking and popping with strain. He began to change his moves swiftly. With his sword in hand, he flashed with a dragon's grandeur, casting great swathes of Sword Qi.

The old beggar felt the pressure increase significantly. He took in a deep breath, redoubled his caution, and re-engaged with White Mitchell, pulling out all stops.

They were once again locked into a close fight, their sword momentum slicing the air. White Mitchell moved nimbly, delivering a swift kick with his left foot and a sweeping strike with his right hand, breaking the old beggar's defence and aiming for his abdomen.

The old beggar sensed the impending danger and quickly retreated, intending to evade White Mitchell's attack. However, his movement didn't completely succeed as White Mitchell's sword tip lightly grazed his arm.

An icy chill instantly spread through the old beggar, a bone-deep coldness materialising from thin air. Subconsciously, he tried to retract his arm.

Seeing this, White Mitchell immediately summoned all his strength, his sword momentum becoming fiercer, relentlessly pursuing the old beggar. The sword light dazzled like a meteor cutting through the night sky.

The old beggar's face etched with seriousness as he was pushed onto the defensive. But his skills far surpassed that of White Mitchell. With an abrupt turn, he dismissed any sentimentality and booted White Mitchell away with all his might.

White Mitchell crashed ominously onto the ground, coughing out a mouthful of blood, his face as pale as a corpse's. Yet, the resolve in his eyes remained steady. He unwaveringly got to his feet and charged towards the old beggar.

Upon seeing this, the old beggar revealed an expression akin to that of a starving wolf sensing a miraculous survival. His laugh echoed around as he fought off White Mitchell's ferocious onslaught with all he had.

With their swords clashing, the sound of metal on metal rang through the entire valley. Their figures, constantly flickering, resembled that of phantoms. A duel between masters of swordsmanship required even more energy and stamina, both of them eager to gain the upper hand.

Suddenly, the old beggar's assault faltered. White Mitchell seized the opportunity without waiting for his opponent to recover, propelling his accurate sword thrust towards the old beggar's chest.

The old beggar abruptly twisted his head and flicked a finger at White Mitchell's waist. A small stone hit the vital point on White Mitchell's waist, causing his body to stiffen instantly, and he collapsed on the ground powerlessly.

The old beggar, seeing this, couldn't help but rejoice in secret. Not daring to let down his guard, he promptly left the spot to avoid any retaliation from White Mitchell. His heart pounded in his chest, yet his visage still carried a hint of mockery.

White Mitchell struggled to get up but the intense pain coursing through his body rendered him motionless. With a furrowed brow, his face bore anger and discontent. He made up his mind not to take the apparently wretched beggar lightly. This beggar's cunning had led him to his defeat.

The old beggar watched White Mitchell's expression of pain with undisguised satisfaction, the corner of his mouth curling up slightly. He inhaled deeply, basking in the joy of his triumph. Yet, the color drained from his face in the next instant, as he gasped in surprise.

White Mitchell let out a deep roar, a powerful aura suddenly emanating from his body, akin to a provoked beast. The unwavering resolve flashed again in his eyes, he was ready to fight anew.

The old beggar immediately sensed the turn of the tide and hurriedly stepped back, maintaining his alertness. Feeling a sudden sense of danger, he was astonished by the power erupting from White Mitchell.

White Mitchell slowly got on his feet, leaning against the wall to support his body. Feeling the intense pain in his waist, he did not surrender. Step by step, he drew closer to the old beggar.

Overwhelmed by anxiety, the old beggar felt a rising beast within his adversary. Drawing a deep breath, he resolved to give everything he had, leaving no room for White Mitchell to recover.

They engaged once again, with sword light flickering, as their strikes echoed across the terrain. Each move was precise and lethal, carrying the potential to obliterate, their figures darting about in the valley like dancing phantoms.

White Mitchell's clothes were completely shredded by the Sword Qi. The veins in his forehead protruding, his eyes revealing a mix of anger and resolve. His moves were becoming more ferocious, ruthlessly attacking the old beggar's vital points.

However, the old beggar would not be subdued so easily. Taking advantage of the ever-changing terrain, he transformed his defensive stance to an offensive one, trying to find White Mitchell's weaknesses. There was a firm determination in his gaze, not showing the slightest hint of retreating.

The life-and-death battle lasted for a long time. Their bodies were covered in injuries, showing scars from knifes and swords everywhere. Their hearts were pounding wildly, their muscles were fatigued, yet they never retreated, struggling to stand up again and again, continuing to fight.

On the blurry battlefield stained with blood and flesh, the interaction of their fists and feet painted a brutal picture. The sword in White Mitchell's hand danced increasingly swiftly, its glow as swift as lightning, making it almost impossible to follow the trajectory of the sword's edge. Every swing carried a destructive power. The old beggar demonstrated his inherited martial arts, his body agilely dodging amongst the sword light, seemingly random yet shrewd. Every strike he made was wicked and ruthless, leaving White Mitchell frequently in danger despite its rough technics.

At this moment, White Mitchell understood that the martial arts of the old beggar were not something to be taken lightly. He gritted his teeth in secret, a strong fighting spirit igniting in his heart. With a resolute and decisive adjustment to his stance, White Mitchell made a sudden leap, dashing toward the old beggar.

The old beggar's brows knitted slightly. Seeing White Mitchell's determination, he dared not underestimate his opponent again. He took the opportunity to dart backward, instantly increasing the distance from White Mitchell. The two engaged once more like a whirlwind, their sword strokes swift and ferocious, their silent fists and feet subtly shifting, and the battlefield suddenly echoed with the sound of the wind.

White Mitchell had a profound foundation in Inner Strength. Since he was under the tutelage of his previous master, he had spent many years in hard training, gradually mastering the method of Inner Strength. Now, he exerted that Inner Strength, making his sword strokes more aggressive. The Sword Qi surged, an invisible strength seemed to be supporting his moves. Although the old beggar was barely coping with it, the pressure was growing.

Suddenly, White Mitchell retracted his sword and leaped backward, a cunning look flashed in his eyes. Based on his knowledge of movement techniques, he swiftly switched his combat strategy. In an instant, he dodged the old beggar's attack and then launched a fast counterattack, demonstrating the advantage of his strength.

The old beggar looked surprised, not expecting White Mitchell's combat awareness to be so outstanding, able to switch strategies within a few breaths. Encouraged by a new idea, he decided not to stick to traditional moves, but to proactively attack, denying White Mitchell the chance to catch his breath. Then, in the collision of swords and fists, the old beggar launched a series of attacks on White Mitchell.

White Mitchell impatiently met the challenge. Amid the intersecting sword and shadows, they fiercely clashed. It was an intensely brutal scene. The surrounding grass and trees were damaged by the Sword Qi, blood splashed everywhere. The injuries on White Mitchell and the old beggar increased, but they didn't intend to stop. No matter how high the cost was, they were striving for victory.

As time ticked by, White Mitchell's mood became increasingly heavy. He gradually realized that he was still at a disadvantage compared to the old beggar. Each of the old beggar's moves targeted his weaknesses, pushing him to the edge of a cliff, danger lurking at every corner.

However, a glance of resolution flickered in White Mitchell's eyes. He took a deep breath, rallied his last strength, and rushed at the old beggar at top speed. This time, his sword strokes became incredibly aggressive, his fists and feet even more fierce, as though he had found an opportunity to break through.

The old beggar sensed the change in White Mitchell's strength and tensed up. He knew that if he didn't make a move at this moment, he might lose his chance. Therefore, he decisively used a secret technique, bringing out all his strength.

In an instant, the battlefield seemed to plunge into pitch blackness, with only two shadowy figures flickering in the darkness. The swords sliced through the air, fists and feet swift as the wind. White Mitchell and the old beggar launched their final confrontation.

Their figures moved swiftly in the darkness, cutting through the air. Every collision caused violent tremors and explosive sounds. The intertwining of their fists and feet composed a concerto of combat, their fading breaths intertwining, seemingly tearing the battlefield apart.

For this decisive battle, White Mitchell tapped into his full strength. He kept swinging his sword; his body seemed incredibly light. Each stroke was full of lethal intent. The old beggar, on the other hand, relied on his years of experience, perceiving White Mitchell's weaknesses and aiming to secure victory with a single killing blow.

Finally, during one confrontation, White Mitchell was caught off guard and the old beggar managed to hit him in the chest with a finger. He felt a sharp pain spreading throughout his body, and his consciousness started to blur.

Nevertheless, White Mitchell did not fall. He tenaciously propped his body up, gritting his teeth against the pain. He knew that if he gave up at this moment, he would pay with his life.

The old beggar did not stop attacking. He took advantage of White Mitchell's moment of hesitation and launched another fierce attack. Attack after attack, each move of the old beggar was infused with Inner Strength, covering an overwhelming momentum. He was not satisfied with the minor damage he had caused earlier. He wanted to decisively defeat White Mitchell and make him pay the price.

Yet, White Mitchell was not defeated by the old beggar's attack. He used the pain as a reminder to stay alert, striving to find a way to counter the old beggar. He understood deeply that the old beggar was an experienced martial artist and it was hard to resist him relying solely on his own strength. He had to figure out the old beggar's weakness.

During the confrontation, White Mitchell suddenly caught a slight negligence on the part of the old beggar. Immediately seizing this opportunity, he used all his strength, and a massive power burst forth, sending the old beggar flying.

The old beggar was surprised as he flew backward. He initially thought that he could easily defeat White Mitchell, but unexpectedly, he was overthrown by a counterattack. He quickly stabilized his figure and maintained caution. Even in the moment he was sent flying, he clearly felt a powerful strength emanating from White Mitchell.

White Mitchell did not hesitate, he swiftly swooped towards old beggar, releasing his sword and preparing to utilize his ultimate technique. His body continuously shifted positions in the air, nimbly and fiercely. His presence was like the arrival of a Heaven God.

A slight smile appeared on the old beggar's face. He didn't panic, instead, he appeared more composed. His fist slammed down, generating surging energy around it. He moved, his forceful fist power collided with White Mitchell's ultimate technique.

Seeing this, White Mitchell's eyes seasoned. He stepped lightly, swift as lightning. His left hand swung, the sword's light cut through the night like a shooting star, its intense momentum piercing into the old beggar's fist force.

The clash between Sword Qi and the fist strength erupted in a powerful shock force. White Mitchell felt as if he had collided with a solid wall, with the massive kickback force catapulting his body backwards.

White Mitchell landed awkwardly, but he displayed not an ounce of retreat. Instead, his fighting spirit surged even more. He was determined to take a true measurement of the old beggar's strength.

The old beggar's face seemed increasingly aged, but his eyes remained sharp. He shook his head slightly and said to White Mitchell, “Young man, you do have some power, but for this old man, it's far from enough.”

The moment his words fell, the old beggar's figure suddenly disappeared as if merging with the surrounding air. White Mitchell was startled, unable to trace the old beggar. All he felt was an invisible force heading straight for him.

In White Mitchell's surprise, a withered fist extend from his side, carrying fierce fist wind aimed ruthlessly at his face. White Mitchell quickly dodged, but he was still grazed by the old beggar's fist force, leaving behind a scar on his cheek.

Pain stimulated White Mitchell's nerves, and he subconsciously gripped the sword tightly in his hand, his eyes radiating unshakeable determination. He understood that the old beggar was not an easy opponent and had to be confronted with full force.

Mitchell White pushed his Inner Strength to the extreme, emitting a powerful aura all around him. The sword light flickered brilliantly, like stars competing for glory. He struck out with his sword, its momentum as tumultuous as a raging river.

The old beggar was worthy of being a Grandmaster, his movements remained unpredictable, evading White Mitchell's lethal strike. It seemed effortless for him to manoeuvre amidst White Mitchell's sword momentum, his every attack accurate and sharp.

White Mitchell felt as if he were in a state of chaos, the old beggar's figure elusive, each attack unpredictable. He realized that the old beggar's martial arts had reached an unmatched peak.

However, White Mitchell was not willing to admit defeat just yet. He held onto the residual power within his swordplay, focused his mind and started looking again for the old beggar's trace. This time, he was determined to defeat the old beggar and prove his strength.

White Mitchell swept his sharp gaze over every blade of grass around him. He suddenly found something unusual: behind an old tree, there was a faint wave of energy.

White Mitchell tracked it quickly, discovered a damaged tree trunk and scattered leaves. The hiding place of the old beggar was completely exposed, his smile on his face more mysterious.

“Young man, you're still not my match,” the old beggar snorted coldly, his figure instantly appeared behind White Mitchell, a punch aimed at the back of his head.

White Mitchell felt the impending danger. He twisted his body, pushed his legs, and summoned a surge of invisible power to counteract the old beggar's fist force.

White Mitchell opened his eyes to find himself in a strange place. Before him was a desolate mountain range, bone-chilling wind, gloomy sky, devoid of any vitality.

The figure of the old beggar appeared again, smiling at White Mitchell and said, “Young man, this is my killing move. It can transfer foes into a boundless dark space. I wonder how long you can last.”

Faced with this sudden predicament, White Mitchell felt desperate, but he didn't mean to give up. He knew as long as he still had a single breath left, he could not concede defeat.

White Mitchell steadied his mind and adjusted his condition. He realized that under no circumstances should he fall into the trap set by the old beggar. He needed to find a way to escape this dark void.

White Mitchell began to cycle his Inner Strength, and his consciousness rapidly covered the entire space. He discovered the void was not entirely chaotic; it contained a specific energy wave.

He traced this wave of energy and quickly located its source. In the center of the void, White Mitchell found a dim light source.

White Mitchell immediately flew towards the light, feeling himself getting closer to escaping this dark void.

At last, White Mitchell approached the faint light source. He found it to be a bead that shimmered with a peculiar light, emitting an incredibly powerful energy fluctuation.

A glint flashed past White Mitchell's eyes, and he reached out without hesitation, seizing the bead. Immediately, a strong wave of Dark Energy gushed out, bringing White Mitchell back to the real world.

White Mitchell felt a heavy slam on the ground, the intense pain all over his body left him immobile. He struggled to open his eyes, finding himself back on the same grassland as before.

The figure of the old beggar appeared again, his eyes filled with astonishment. He did not expect his ultimate move to be broken, and White Mitchell miraculously escaped.

Chapter end