However, the demonic deity Han Li had transformed into was entirely unmoved by this. The crystal-clear light merely flickered across the face of the central head, and the arm wielding the dark green giant sword swept forward once more.
Heaven and earth trembled, and another razor-thin dark green line coiled outward.
Ma Liang's expression changed. Without a moment's hesitation, both sleeves moved at once, and treasure after treasure in a blaze of five-colored light shot wildly from within — nearly a hundred in total.
By the time the dark green thread flashed into close range, these treasures surged forward in a swarm and detonated into a blinding sphere of radiance.
Every one of these treasures was clearly extraordinary. Each explosion of light caused the dark green line to falter, dissolving a small portion of it into nothing.
When all of the hundreds of treasures had self-destructed, the remaining dark green thread had dwindled to a mere dozen meters or so by the time it reached Ma Liang.
With a low shout, Ma Liang extended one finger — its tip blazing a metallic crimson-gold — and thrust it directly at the thread.
Bang!
The finger exploded into a mist of blood, but the remnant of the dark green line likewise scattered and vanished into thin air.
"Twice now!" Ma Liang snarled. "Channeling a Heavenblessed Treasure at full power demands an enormous reserve of Magical Power. A mere Mahayana cultivator — how much True Essence could you possibly possess? There is absolutely no way you can launch a third strike! And don't forget, you still need to maintain that enormous sword formation. I'd wager you don't have much Magical Power left inside you!" Though Ma Liang was missing a finger and looked somewhat haggard, his gaze at Han Li was filled with savage ferocity. With a flip of his hand, a crystal-clear silver flute materialized in his palm.
"Whether I can channel a third strike — why not try it and find out?" The three heads of the demonic deity Han Li had become spoke in unison, their voices dripping with cold mockery. "Besides, look at your own condition. How much better off are you than me? How many more techniques can you possibly execute?" Though he spoke these words, Han Li indeed did not unleash a third slash with the dark green giant blade. Instead, his other five hands simultaneously grasped at empty air. A ball of golden light emerged from each, condensing and solidifying into five exceptionally heavy weapons — a staff, a mace, and others of similar might.
"Ha! Even if I can execute just one more technique, that will be more than enough to destroy you!" Ma Liang's fury surged at these words, but on his face a wild grin spread instead. He held the silver flute before him and brought it to his lips.
The next instant, a silvery soundwave unfurled from the flute, carried on a melody that resonated with Ma Liang's spiritual sense.
Where the faint silver ripples passed, empty space buzzed and hummed, and the air turned hazy and indistinct.
The moment the demonic deity Han Li had become heard the flute's notes, all three heads sagged. A dizzy, intoxicated sensation of drifting floating immediately washed over him, while the surrounding scenery blurred in a sudden shift — and in the blink of an eye, he found himself standing amid a churning ocean of blood.
The crimson tide surged and boiled, and from within it poured countless green-faced, fang-bearing demons and monsters, every one of them radiating a terrifying aura that suggested cultivation no lower than the Mahayana stage.
"Hmph. You think mere illusions can deceive my senses?"
Han Li beheld this scene without the slightest disturbance. Instead, the Brahma Saint Demonic Deity let out a cold snort, and all five of the heavy weapons in his hands swept outward in every direction simultaneously.
A monstrous shockwave instantly rolled outward in all directions. In its wake, the river of blood and every demon within it were obliterated in an instant.
No matter how masterful the illusion, it crumbled before attacks that simply could not be resisted.
Yet when Ma Liang saw this, a faint, mocking smile curled at the corner of his mouth. The flute's melody continued without pause, but his figure blurred. A phantom silhouette split away from his back, flickered once, and silently merged into empty space, vanishing without a trace.
At the same time, the illusory visions around Han Li — which had just been dispelled — returned with a fresh surge of the soundwave. The river of blood and the hordes of monsters materialized once more, encircling him completely.
Han Li blinked in mild surprise, but a look of sudden understanding immediately followed. His hands did not slow in the slightest. The five heavy weapons swept outward once more, and another wave of golden devastation rolled in all directions, shattering the blood river and its demonic creatures to nothing again.
Meanwhile, deep within his Dantian, the Nascent Soul he harbored clasped its hands into a rapid sequence of seals. A surge of cool, crystalline energy burst forth and coursed through every meridian, flooding into all three heads at once.
The intoxicated, drifting sensation within Han Li's sea of spiritual consciousness vanished without a trace.
Now, no matter how endlessly the flute's melody played at his ears, no further illusory phenomena appeared.
Ma Liang's heart lurched with shock.
The silver flute in his hands appeared ordinary, but it was in truth one of his most prized personal treasures. When the sound it produced was used to attack an enemy, anyone whose spiritual sense was not stronger than the flute-wielder's would inevitably become trapped in endless illusions, utterly unable to break free.
Yet the other party had shrugged off the soundwave's power so effortlessly — could it be that his spiritual consciousness was even stronger than his own?
Though Ma Liang's power had been suppressed by the force of the plane barrier and could not compare to what he wielded in the Immortal World, his spiritual sense was still not inferior to that of an ordinary Immortal.
And with this, the killer move he had prepared was also rendered useless, impossible to execute.
Ma Liang's expression flickered between dark and light as his mind raced, but before he could decide on his next course of action, the three-headed, six-armed Brahma Saint Demonic Deity across from him took a colossal step forward. Its figure blurred and vanished from where it had stood.
Ma Liang was a veteran of countless battles himself. A warning cry of "Not good!" echoed in his mind as he pocketed the silver flute, moved his body, and instantly appeared in empty space hundreds of meters away.