King's Awakening Chapter 803

Chapter 803: Chapter 803: Saint Fang Tianchou

“Saint, in response to Heaven!”

Whoosh!

White Mitchell exhaled a cloudy breath, involuntarily revealing a trace of fatigue on his face.

After comprehending the life experiences of so many saints, it was fortunate that White Mitchell could bear it. If it were an ordinary person, they would have probably collapsed long ago.

However, White Mitchell did not lose heart, but wholeheartedly plunged into the life of the next saint.

White Mitchell was a child born into an ordinary family. His parents were ordinary farmers, living a poor life, but the family was close-knit and happy. White Mitchell exhibited exceptional talent from a very young age, his eyes bright and clear, and a unique aura reflected between his brows.

In the year White Mitchell was nine, his parents suddenly contracted a rare disease. The family's poverty meant they could not afford the high medical costs, and they was plunged into despair. White Mitchell, clinging to a glimmer of hope, resolutely decided to go out and search for herbs to cure his parents' illness.

The little White Mitchell embarked on a long journey alone, braving mountains and rivers, and enduring countless hardships. After several days and nights of hustle, he finally found the legendary fairy herb that cured this disease. White Mitchell excitedly brought the fairy herb home and personally brewed the medicine for his parents. His parents eventually recovered, shedding tears of gratitude, proud of White Mitchell's strength and bravery.

White Mitchell's parents decided to send him to a Cultivation Sect to study, hoping he could become an elite in the Cultivation World in the future. They sent him to the Domen Sect, carrying their best wishes for their son.

In the Domen Sect, White Mitchell studied hard, humbly asked for guidance from the elders, and strived to enhance his cultivation. He quickly stood out and became a genius disciple known to all. However, the path of cultivation was not smooth, and he encountered many challenges and dangers.

In an accident, White Mitchell met a mysterious old man who claimed to be a messenger from the Heavens Sect sent to save mortals. He told White Mitchell that he carried a flow of immortal aura and was a reincarnated Cultivator. White Mitchell was shocked beyond belief, realizing that his destiny was not ordinary.

The old man led White Mitchell through time and space into a mysterious fairyland. In the fairyland, White Mitchell encountered various magical creatures and characters. He befriended a beautiful fairy, and they became best friends. White Mitchell improved his cultivation by competing with many experts in the fairyland, gradually stepping onto the path of becoming a strong person in the fairyland.

However, White Mitchell's path to cultivation did not stop there.

After experiencing a series of cultivation and trials, White Mitchell returned to the human realm, only to find that the human realm was suffering from the oppression and exploitation of the sect leader, Dawson. Dawson was a ruthless and domineering tyrant who wielded powerful cultivation power, oppressed the people, and tried to dominate the entire Cultivation World.

White Mitchell was determined to stand up against Dawson for the protection of the people. He began to gather information, trying to understand Dawson's weaknesses and ways to undermine him. After some investigations, White Mitchell discovered that Dawson had a close confidant, who was his stand-in ruling the mortal world. Only by defeating this confidant could Dawson be genuinely harmed.

So, White Mitchell started to set traps to lure Dawson's confidant out. In one clever plan, White Mitchell successfully dragged the confidant into his trap and fought him fiercely. White Mitchell demonstrated his profound cultivation skills, determined to take the confidant's life in order to serve the people, but what White Mitchell didn't expect was that Dawson was well aware of White Mitchell's plan in advance and had personally come to protect his confidant.

Dawson, clad in a black robe, appeared on the battlefield with an imposing aura. His eyes shone like a wolf's, fierce, and his face held a mocking smile.

“White Mitchell, do you think you can defeat me? How naive you are!”

White Mitchell stared at Dawson, showing a trace of disdain in his eyes. “Dawson, you're so brutal, oppressing the people. There will be retribution one day. I have come to eliminate the harm for the people. Why are you so grotesque?”

Dawson snorted coldly, releasing his cultivation power like a storm. He unhesitatingly charged at White Mitchell, a strong aura enveloping Mitchell.

White Mitchell's eyebrows knitted slightly, his hands forming seals as his internal cultivation power surged rapidly. He shouted lowly, glowing brightly, then a Sword Qi flew out from his hand, directed straight at Dawson.

Dawson nimbly dodges while simultaneously swinging his massive axe down with great force. The collision of the giant axe and the Sword Qi sets off a booming noise that rouses a storm around them.

The two crisscross on the battlefield, their fighting spirits are high. White Mitchell showcases his peerless Swordsmanship, repeatedly aiming for Dawson's weak points. Meanwhile, Dawson, relying on his powerful cultivation strength, dodges each attack with sly, helix-like speed.

The battle goes on for a while, and the scene is extraordinarily intense. The formerly quiet village is now in ruins, with fires raging amid the battle, ash and smoke billowing high.

White Mitchell seizes the moment, recites an incantation, and a mist enshrouds the battlefield, obscuring his vision. He takes this chance to swiftly approach Dawson, swings his sword, and fiercely aims for Dawson's heart.

Dawson's complexion changes slightly as he spins around quickly to advance White Mitchell's attack. Simultaneously, he swings his gigantic axe, unleashing a huge energy wave.

The energy wave is like a monstrous tide, sweeping across the battlefield. White Mitchell reacts in time, dodges, but the impact brought by the wave sends him flying.

White Mitchell falls to the ground, his vision a blur. He rubs his eyes vigorously, stands up, and once again locks his gaze on Dawson.

“Dawson, you greedy demon! Did you think I'd give up so easily?”

White Mitchell grits his teeth, turns into a beam of white light, and leaps across the battlefield towards Dawson. His body radiates a potent cultivation strength. The power wraps around him, forming trails of Sword Qi.

Dawson lets out a mocking laugh and fearlessly confronts him. He swings his giant axe and engages in even more intense combat with White Mitchell.

The two stand off at a distance, the tension between them palpable as they exchange blows. White Mitchell's cultivation strength collides with Dawson's tyrannical power, emitting waves of scorching heat.

The battle persists for a long time, White Mitchell feels his cultivation strength waning. He knows he must quickly find Dawson's weakness or it would be hard to win. White Mitchell calmly observes Dawson's movements and attack patterns, looking for an opportunity. Suddenly, he notices Dawson slightly pauses before each attack; this could be his weakness.

White Mitchell seizes this opportunity, turns into a beam of white light, appearing like lightning next to Dawson with his sword slashing at Dawson's neck.

Dawson senses the imminent danger and hurriedly raises his axe to block. However, White Mitchell's sword momentum is overwhelming. The flickering sword light is like a flash of lightning, and the sword tip aims straight at Dawson's throat.

Dawson is caught off guard. He can't afford to be careless and exerts his full strength to block White Mitchell's attack, while also guarding against attacks from other powerful opponents. White Mitchell's sword momentum is overwhelming, and each attack imposes immense pressure on Dawson, forcing him to fight back with all his might.

As the battle progresses, White Mitchell feels increasingly exhausted, and the intense fight drains his cultivation strength. He knows he must defeat Dawson in the shortest time, or he might completely exhaust his power.

Suddenly, a thunderous noise ripples through, other cultivators on the battlefield join the fight. White Mitchell seizes this opportunity and utilizes his ultimate move–Heavenly Gang SwordArray. Shrouded by the Sword Qi, he swiftly moves amidst the enemies, continuously cutting down his foes.

Seeing this, Dawson grows anxious. He senses White Mitchell's determination and tenacity, aware he has met a formidable opponent.

They clash again, the clanging sound of sword and axe resonating deafeningly and sparks flying. White Mitchell maneuvers ingeniously, his sword momentum flows like a torrent, piercing through Dawson's defense, aiming at his vital points. Despite his overwhelming strength, Dawson struggles to fend off White Mitchell's sword momentum.

Dawson grits his teeth, despair creeping over him as White Mitchell's sword momentum intensifies. He roars and counterattacks, swinging his giant axe towards White Mitchell.

White Mitchell instantly feels the incredible power of Dawson, he makes every effort to dodge, attempting to evade Dawson's attack. However, Dawson's axe technique is extremely ruthless, each strike full of the Power of Destruction.

On the battlefield, the two intertwined the glows of their swords and axes, their fighting spirits soaring high. Their fight became increasingly intense, and surrounding cultivators also joined in, resulting in a chaotic melee.

Facing Dawson's attack, White Mitchell defended with all his might. Biting down on his teeth, he relied on his determined willpower and powerful cultivation strength, resolving to defeat Dawson and protect both himself and the forces he belonged to.

During the fight, White Mitchell suddenly felt a surge of intense pain radiating from his chest. Looking down, he saw a giant axe deeply embedded into his body, fresh blood flowing down the axe's blade.

The cruelty and coldness in Dawson's bones laid bare, he forcefully twisted the axe, attempting to completely knock down White Mitchell.

White Mitchell clenched his teeth, enduring the severe pain. He refused to fall, used all his cultivation power to block the axe. His eyes shone with a determined light, and his unyielding spirit permeated the battlefield.

Driven by pain, White Mitchell unleashed an even more powerful force. With a loud roar, he transformed into a dazzling white light, unleashing all his cultivation power, breaking free from Dawson's constraint.

The white light burst forth instantly, like a brilliant sun rising on the battlefield. Everyone couldn't help but feel a sense of awe, even Dawson involuntarily took several steps back.

White Mitchell's body rapidly healed in the white light, his wounds visibly closing at a noticeable pace. His eyes twinkled with determination, his cultivation strength surging like tumultuous waves.

Dawson smirked menacingly and confronted White Mitchell's attack without retreating. His body radiated a chilling aura, giving those around him the sensation of being in the midst of ice and snow, chilling to the bone.

Their forms collided in mid-air, the air reverberating with the sound of explosions. Each of their encounters resulted in intense shockwaves, igniting terrifyingly vivid sparks.

The tempo of the battle accelerated, the speed of the Three Thousand Fists was swift and fierce. Every blow from White Mitchell was launched with his full strength, while Dawson retaliated with equal speed and power. As their forms interwove in mid-air, the battle was dizzyingly mesmerising.

Within a few breaths' time, White Mitchell's robes were torn to shreds by the fighting's fierce currents; he didn't care, he only aimed to defeat Dawson. Meanwhile, waves of dark menace erupted from Dawson, engulfing the entire battlefield with an evil aura.

White Mitchell roared, releasing a dazzling white light from his hand that transformed into a giant sword. It sliced through the sky towards Dawson. Dawson roared in response, swinging his glowing axe in a vicious counter-attack, colliding with White Mitchell's giant sword.

With a deafening boom, the entire battlefield seemed to shake. The energy fluctuation from the collision between the giant sword and the giant axe affected the area within a hundred meters, turning trees into dust, scattering rocks, and making heavens and earth tremble with the impact.

However, White Mitchell didn't retreat. Standing firmly, he channeled his cultivation power into his body like a ceaseless flowing stream. His eyes glowed with determination, fearlessly continuing to entangle with Dawson.

Dawson's expression turned serious as he gradually felt the strong aura emanating from White Mitchell. Again, he swung his giant axe, releasing a vicious axe shadow that struck White Mitchell in the chest.

White Mitchell quickly backed away, the axe in his chest still causing intense pain as blood flowed from the wound. He gritted his teeth tightly, once again using his full cultivation power to defend against Dawson's attack.

This time, the power emitted by White Mitchell became even stronger, like a volcanic eruption. He transformed into a dazzling white light, releasing all his cultivation power, and rushed towards Dawson.

Dawson's face changed drastically; he felt threatened by death's imminent approach. He unreservedly unleashed his most powerful attack, trying to defeat White Mitchell.

On the battlefield, the intertwining of white light and darkness, the clanging of the giant axe and the giant sword was ceaseless. Accompanied by roaring and explosion sounds, the whole battlefield was enveloped by mysterious forces, myriad sparks and electric arcs burst in the air.

Time passed by the minute and the second, numerous wounds left on both White Mitchell and Dawson. Blood stained their robes, however, they still fought tenaciously, as if they had forgotten the existence of pain.

Ultimately, White Mitchell's giant sword heavily slashed against Dawson's giant axe, producing a deafening sound. Dawson felt an unprecedented pressure, and his whole person was sent flying.

Taking advantage of the situation, White Mitchell quickly pursued him. His body flickered with white light, like a lightning bolt slashing through the night sky, aiming directly at Dawson.

Dawson sneered, and the dark aura on his body quickly condensed, forming a black protective shield. White Mitchell's attack was completely blocked, and the collision between the huge sword and the protective shield produced a violent friction sound.

White Mitchell's eyebrows slightly furrowed, but he didn't retreat. Instead, he incited his cultivation power even more and once again hacked out a dazzling white light.

Dawson's eyes flashed with disdain. He swung his giant axe and fiercely slashed towards White Mitchell. However, White Mitchell's attack was even faster. His giant sword instantly slashed Dawson.

The giant sword ripped through the black protective shield, slashing Dawson, and a burst of blood rain was set off. Dawson fell to the ground and could not get up, his wounds continuously spewing out fresh blood.

White Mitchell gently landed, his tall and imposing figure radiating power and prestige. He looked at Dawson fallen to the ground, his eyes revealing a touch of indifference.

“Dawson, your crimes have reached their end,” White Mitchell coldly remarked, showing no mercy.

Struggling to get up, a savage smile surfaced on Dawson's face. “White Mitchell, do you think you can just finish me like this? I have suffered hardships, gone through countless trials, and finally achieved the cultivation realm I am at now. Even if I die, I will not let you off easy!”

White Mitchell's eyebrows slightly furrowed, as he stared deeply at Dawson. The battle was over, but his inner calm remained undisturbed by Dawson's words.

“Dawson, your evil deeds have reached their end. I will bind you by law and make you pay for all you have done.” White Mitchell spoke in a firm tone, his eyes brimming with determination.

Dawson glared at White Mitchell, his face savage. “Don't be so smug, I still have plenty of men at my disposal.”

White Mitchell faintly smiled, “No matter how many men you have, it can't change your fate. This battle has already destined your defeat.”

Dawson roared in fury, his eyes spilling over with madness. He once again swung his giant axe, launching a violent attack towards White Mitchell.

White Mitchell met the onslaught with stability. His cultivation power surged out, transforming into rays of white light, like countless sharp swords shooting towards Dawson. Every inch of the battlefield was filled with bone-chilling murderous intent, as if the entire world trembled at their battle.

The battle continued. The figures of White Mitchell and Dawson crisscrossed on the battlefield, sword shadows and axe shadows heavily colliding in the air. Their power grew stronger and stronger, the calls of battle and murderous aura filling the entire battlefield.

A quarter of an hour passed, and White Mitchell relentlessly charged forward without shrinking back. He already had several wounds on his body, fresh blood constantly dripping, but his eyes still shone with unyielding determination.

You could say, Dawson was in a more deplorable state than White Mitchell. His giant axe had become heavy, and his offensive spirit was clearly not as good as before. His body was covered with wounds, fresh blood stained his robe, and his breath began to weaken.

As time passed second by second, the battle reached a fever pitch. White Mitchell almost lost his rationality, as he mercilessly killed Dawson's men, and the scent of death on the battlefield grew thicker.

A flash of fear crossed Dawson's eyes as he felt the approach of death. However, he still gritted his teeth, fought with all his might, and tried to resist White Mitchell's offensive.

In the end, White Mitchell's sword pierced Dawson's heart, thoroughly defeating him.

The atmosphere of the battlefield suddenly went silent. The crowd stared wide-eyed at Dawson on the ground, finding it hard to believe their own eyes. This strong and wicked character who was slain by a single stroke from White Mitchell.

White Mitchell slowly withdrew the giant sword in his hand, a trace of indifference reflected in his eyes. He wore no expression of celebration, nor any hint of joy as he simply gazed down at the corpse on the ground.

Dawson's eyes gradually dulled and his body began to chill, but there was not a trace of fear or regret present. He knew he had no regrets, for he'd given everything he had. As his past misdeeds and endless killings flooded his mind, he understood that this sword was his retribution.

The people on the battlefield finally came to their senses, falling into a deep silence. Dawson was seen as an absolute powerhouse in their eyes, virtually unmatched. But now, he had fallen, completely defeated. Shock and reverence filled their hearts in that moment, as they witnessed hope and the victory of righteousness.

Suddenly, a thunderous roar erupted as a young man dressed in black charged into the center of the battlefield like lightning. His tall and mighty figure, handsome face, and heroic spirit were on full display. This was Dawson's son, Matteo Dawson. He inherited his father's strength and ambition, but was deeply despised his father's evil deeds.

Matteo glared at White Mitchell in fury, clutching a flaming red longsword in his hands. His eyes were filled with hatred and a firm resolve to take revenge, vowing to avenge his father and make White Mitchell pay the price.

White Mitchell looked deeply at Matteo, revealing not a hint of withdrawal in his eyes. He knew that this coming battle would be his most difficult yet, as he would be facing an opponent who was equally powerful. Matteo was a top-tier fighter in the martial world, and his swordsmanship was incredibly skillful, each attack carrying explosive power and destructive force.

Matteo roared loudly, his aura mighty and powerful as he lunged towards White Mitchell with his sword. White Mitchell calmly retaliated, his sword transforming into a dazzling bright light that crossed swords with Matteo's. The fury of their sword Qi clashed, energy surges scattered everywhere, and the entire battlefield was engulfed by violent tremors.

Matteo's sword technique was as ferocious as a waterfall, while White Mitchell skillfully parried it in its entirety. The two of them engaged in a series of attacks and defenses, their swords intertwining, their fighting spirits undiminished. The spectators on the battlefield were captivated by the intense duel, the scene before their eyes shook them to their core.

Matteo suddenly transformed into a streak of light, his speed so swift it left onlookers aghast. His sword technique became even sharper, pushing White Mitchell on the defensive.

White Mitchell calmly analyzed the situation, looking for a flaw in Matteo's defenses. He knew that defeating Matteo wouldn't be easy, but he had no intentions of backing down. The moment Matteo retreated, White Mitchell seized the opportunity and launched an unexpected strike, knocking Matteo back several steps.

Matteo glared at White Mitchell in wrath, a determined light flashing in his eyes. Letting out a roar, he released all his power and lunged towards White Mitchell like a wild beast. His sword techniques became even more vicious, as if intending to slay every inch of White Mitchell's skin.

White Mitchell felt a tightening in his heart, sensing Matteo's frenzied momentum. He mustered all his strength, battling Matteo to the best of his ability. Sword lights flickered and energy surges flew around, creating a storm of destruction that seemed to have been triggered by their fight.

They clashed back and forth on the battlefield, their speed unmatched. Matteo's sword techniques were shockingly ferocious, every sword strike severing the air and creating terrifying sounds.

White Mitchell relied on his agile movements to dodge Matteo's attacks, never losing sight of his opportunities to counterattack. His double swords danced like the wind, every swing leaving a trail of arc-shaped sword light. The sword light was like a meteor crossing the night sky, clashing amidst the storm-like chaos.

Matteo, in front of White Mitchell, found himself unable to go all out, and roared in frustration, doing everything he could to push White Mitchell back. The blades intersected, and the skirmish between the two was like a bloody battle. The sound of swords ripping through the air was becoming even more deafening.

White Mitchell's determination never faltered, he knew he needed to give his all to protect himself and the ones he loved. He blocked Matteo's attack, dodging at times and counter-attacking at others. His heart was pounding, his blood flowing with strength, and his entire body radiated a strong will to fight.

His sword techniques became even more fierce, every sword stroke bringing with it endless killing intent. His gaze was sharp like a sword, smartly spotting the flaw in Matteo's form. White Mitchell, with a flash of his figure, rushed forward like lightning, thrusting his sword straight towards Matteo's chest.

Matteo sensed the threat of White Mitchell, he braced himself nervously, attempting to block White Mitchell's attack. However, White Mitchell's sword stroke was faster and sharper than he imagined. Before he could react, White Mitchell's sword pierced into his chest.

An agonizing pain washed over Matteo's whole body, he felt as if he was being struck by a heavy hammer, and was flung backward. Blood splattered out, and his eyes filled with despair and fury.

White Mitchell indifferently withdrew his sword, his eyes devoid of one bit of mercy. He knew that the fight against such an enemy could only be ended by a strike of life or death.

With much difficulty, Matteo managed to get up. His body was littered with wounds, but his eyes were colder than ever. Not showing any sign of weakness, he met White Mitchell's gaze and let out a deep roar.

His power erupted once again, a potent aura radiating from him. Madness glimmered in his eyes. No longer holding anything back, his sole desire was to utterly defeat White Mitchell.

White Mitchell could feel the terrifying power radiating from Matteo, understanding that he faced an unprecedented challenge. But he didn't back down. He was resolved to face Matteo head-on, no matter what the outcome.

Once again they clashed, their attacks coming at each other in a flurry, the sound of their swords colliding even more intense than before. With breathtaking speed, each managed to get in strikes and elude the other, leaving the observer's head spinning. Constantly adjusting their stances and sword momentum, each looked for an opening in the other's defense.

As the fight reached its climax, both men were covered in wounds, their robes painted with their blood. Sword Qi crisscrossed, setting off dazzling swordlight, as if their fight was the only thing left in the universe.

Matteo's offense grew increasingly chaotic and intense, his power swelling by the minute. With a wild look in his eye, each of his sword strikes carried an overwhelming force. But White Mitchell calmly waited for his opportunity, unfazed by Matteo's intimidating aura.

White Mitchell found an opening, and he held Matteo's sword with his own, suddenly sending out a powerful palm strike with his free hand. The palm strike landed on Matteo's chest like a bolt of lightning.

Matteo was sent flying backwards, slamming into the wall with such force. He let out a blood-curdling scream collapsing to the ground like a broken kite. Blood gushed from his mouth, staining his robes red.

White Mitchell looked down at the fallen Matteo and said coldly, “Hatred has blinded your judgment, making you irrational. Only by letting go of your hatred can you truly liberate yourself.”

Matteo managed to lift his agonized gaze. His eyes filled with regret and resentment, he retorted, “You can kill me, and I'll accept it. But you should know this won't solve anything. Others will rise to avenge me.”

White Mitchell looked deep into Matteo's eyes, realizing the validity in his words. Their duel was but the tip of the iceberg, with many other powers lurking in the shadows. Perhaps this was just the beginning.

But at this juncture, there was no trace of retreat in White Mitchell's thoughts. His sole conviction was to protect the one he loved. He lifted his longsword, stood before Matteo, and firmly said, “No matter how many followers you have, I will stop you until the very end.”

Matteo glared back at White Mitchell, his eyes filled with intense hatred. “I swear I will never forgive you!” he exclaimed.

The fight erupted once more. The pair's figures darted around the room, the noise of their clashing weapons growing increasingly intense. Matteo, throwing all caution to the wind, attacked like a fierce storm, unstoppable.

White Mitchell, in contrast, held his ground. Despite Matteo's crazed attacks, he managed to keep a clear head. He dodged each of Matteo's strikes with agility, waiting for the right moment to launch a lethal counterattack.

As time wore on, the fight became white-hot. Sparks flew about the room. Their seemingly random sword techniques actually brimmed with opportunities, waiting for the right moment to be seized.

White Mitchell's swordsmanship was becoming even more fierce, the momentum of his strikes like the relentless flow of a river. It seemed like he could predict every one of Matteo's attacks, skillfully defending and counterattacking at each precise moment.

Sensing the impending danger, Matteo realized he was in a dire position. He launched another full-on assault, hoping to forcibly push back White Mitchell. However, White Mitchell was not moved in the slightest. Instead, his offense became even more aggressive, attacking with unstoppable momentum.

His sword movements flowed like water, creating a beautiful yet intimidating web of swordlight, instantly dissolving Matteo's offense.

Matteo was overcome with a sense of powerlessness. From the depth of his despair and fear, he knew he was losing. The defeat seemed inevitable.

Indifferently, White Mitchell stared down at Matteo. Gone was hatred from his gaze, replaced by determination and resolve. “You've brought this upon yourself,” he gently said.

With eyes wild with anger, Matteo shouted defiantly, launching one last frenzied attack. But White Mitchell had already entered a state of calmness. His swordsmanship became sharper and more menacing, dissipating every one of Matteo's desperate strikes.

The battle had continued for a long time, Matteo was entirely exhausted, his sword gradually growing heavy. But White Mitchell stood strong like an insurmountable monument, his sword still gleaming, showing no sign of fatigue.

Eventually, White Mitchell seized the opportunity, with a ruthless swordsmanship technique that left Matteo helpless. Despair and regret filled his eyes as he knew death was inevitable.

White Mitchell slowly walked towards Matteo. His eyes were void of any slightest feel of fluctuation, only coldness and resoluteness. “This is your deserved outcome,” he said coldly.

Matteo dragged his head up with difficulty, with a hint of resignation flashing in his eyes. “Although I lost to you, I will die without regrets.” His voice carried an underlay of determination, “You won, would you care to fulfill my last wish?”

White Mitchell hesitated for a moment and finally nodded. “Speak up. As long as it doesn't contravene my principles, I will do my best to assist.”

Matteo managed a faint smile, with his eyes filled with gratitude. “Please take care of my loved ones, they are the most important people in my life,” he said.

White Mitchell silently nodded in understanding. He vowed to remember this promise, and he would do his utmost to protect Matteo's cherished ones.

At that moment, an intruder suddenly barged into the room – a man dressed in black. He raised a concealed weapon and threw it towards White Mitchell. White Mitchell reacted swiftly and struck the concealed weapon away with one sword stroke.

Seeing the unfavorable circumstances, the man in black urgently tried to escape. White Mitchell coldly stared at his retreating figure and with a sudden move like lightning, he quickly caught up.

An intense melee once again erupted in the room, their shadows clashed together like a whirlwind.

Matteo, struggling to his feet, was staring intently at the brawl between White Mitchell and the man in black. Even though his body was extremely weak, his eyes were still firm.

He knew, this would be his last sight of White Mitchell.

The fight intensified in the room; their silhouettes shuttled back and forth. White Mitchell's swordsmanship was incredibly sharp, every attack was lethal and merciless.

The man in black wouldn't be left behind; he was extraordinarily agile in his movement techniques, sometimes disappearing and reappearing like a ghost, sometimes attacking violently like a wild beast.

The endless stream of Sword Qi and concealed weapons intertwined, forming a burning battlefield. The room's furniture was shattered, and the floor was littered with fragments and bloodstains.

Both men's clashes gradually transcended the capacity of ordinary people, each attack carried a potential for destruction. White Mitchell's swordsmanship was akin to that of a soaring dragon and striking snake, each sword strike radiating an intense yearning for blood. His agility was impressive, pressing step by step, cornering the man in black to an impasse.

Faced with White Mitchell's aggressive assault, the man in black launched himself into the air, transforming into a shadow, retreating rapidly to avoid White Mitchell's fierce attacks while striking back. The black outfit he wore adhered to his skin in an instant, acting like a second skin, rendering him virtually soundless in movement.

Their silhouettes flew around the room, the Sword Qi and the concealed weapons intertwined into a dense web of attacks. White Mitchell, with his longsword in hand, caused sparks and brought forth a spray of blood with each thrust, but the man in black would always avoid a fatal blow. The fight was incredibly fierce.

The battle gradually escalated, the sounds of flesh being hit echoed in the room. Their bodies were already cut open with numerous wounds, their robes were soaked with blood, but they still fought relentlessly.

White Mitchell could feel an increasingly strong aura and knew he was nearing his limit. He remained calm, his sword attack grew crispier and his movements became more sharp. Each attack was aimed to deliver a fatal blow, striving to bring down the man in black.

The man in black too was aware that he was on the verge of danger. His eyes became colder, filled with killing intent. He fought back with all his might, knowing that it could be a deadly blow, but there was no way out.

The battle peaked in intensity; they were locked in a bitter struggle, the exchange was swift and potentially fatal. As the Sword Qi and concealed weapons danced around, a strong bloody odor filled the room.

Suddenly, White Mitchell thrust an aggressive sword attack towards the chest of the man in black, but the man in black skillfully dodged the fatal blow and in return, stabbed towards White Mitchell's abdomen.

White Mitchell's body sharply tilted, the sword's glow nicked his abdomen splurting out blood. He suppressed his severe pain, extracting the last bit of energy from his Dantian, exhausting all his strength to avoid the man in black's attack.

The man in black gritted his teeth, looking at White Mitchell's eyes filled with intent to kill, he knew he must turn the tide. He quickly retreated a few steps, fully switching tactics.

Suddenly, the man in black disappeared from White Mitchell's sight, as if he had been fused into the darkness. White Mitchell searched all around but couldn't sense the presence of the man in black. He vigilantly surveyed the surroundings, abruptly felt a sense of danger.

At that moment, the man in black suddenly appeared from behind White Mitchell, his dagger aimed towards White Mitchell's heart. White Mitchell reacted rapidly, forcefully dodging the fatal blow, but the dagger grazed his back, embedding deeply into his flesh.

White Mitchell gritted his teeth in pain, feeling the acute pain from where the dagger passed, but he did not give up. With immense willpower, he thrust his sword towards the man in black.

The eyes of the man in black narrowed, the bright dagger clashed with the sharp edges of White Mitchell's sword, creating a crisp sound. Both of them felt each other's power, causing their bodies to slightly shake.

White Mitchell gritted his teeth, his entire strength gathering at the blade. His stoic eyes flashed a hint of determination. He could feel that the man in black's strength was superior to his own, but he couldn't retreat, nor could he lose. He kept his eyes on the man in black, unleashing a series of strikes with his sword.

The man in black dodged flexibly, his body moving around White Mitchell like a ghost. White Mitchell tried to grab the shadow of the man in black, however, each attempt was but a brush of shoulders. The agility in the man in black's movement technique was almost imperceptible.

Gradually, White Mitchell felt his power fading. Each swing of his sword became heavier. His breathing became rapid, sweat beads penetrating his forehead. Despite this, he did not halt his attack, he knew only by persevering could he have a chance to defeat the man in black.

Seeing this, the man in black, with a cold smirk, swiftly changed his tactics, aiming the dagger at White Mitchell's leg. White Mitchell was in grave danger; seeing the man in black's dagger about to hit him, he used his last bit of energy to leap backward, narrowly evading the fatal blow.

White Mitchell collapsed on the ground, felt completely drained. The man in black approached him, looking at his helpless state, revealing a ridiculing smile.

“You have no more strength left to fight.” The man in black spoke coldly.

White Mitchell chuckled softly, his eyes revealing a hint of resolve. “I don't need power, all I need is determination.” He slowly stood up. Although his body was exhausted, his eyes were filled with unwavering determination.

This gave the man in black a sinking feeling; he felt an undeniable threat. He lifted his dagger again, ready for a fatal strike. However, this time, White Mitchell didn't dodge, he looked into the man in black's eyes without any fear.

The sword hilt and the dagger collided once again, resonating a clear ringing sound. White Mitchell's entire strength concentrated at the sword in his hands, creating an unstoppable force.

The man in black, with a hint of surprise in his eyes, struggled to resist White Mitchell's attack, but found himself consuming more strength. A formidable force transferred to his arm, gradually tearing his resistance apart.

Finally, the man in black's dagger was pierced by White Mitchell's sword. He stared at White Mitchell wide-eyed, couldn't believe what was happening right before his eyes.

“Do you think power can decide everything?” White Mitchell sneered, “Determination is the key to victory.”

The man in black was left speechless, his body gradually fell, eventually turning into a puddle of black blood. White Mitchell slowly sheathed his sword, standing beside the man in black's lifeless body, showing no emotion.

He was victorious, but he knew this was just the beginning. He still has a long way to go, more enemies to confront. He deeply inhaled, took a firm step forward, embarking on an unknown journey ahead.

Chapter end