Doctor Mo landed gently where
At this moment, Han Li’s situation was far from good. He was panting heavily, his face had gone somewhat pale, and beads of cold sweat were forming on his forehead. An unnatural flush colored his cheeks.
All these signs indicated that Han Li’s life-saving maneuver just now had consumed the vast majority of his strength. It was very likely that he wouldn't be able to execute the same technique again.
Exhaling deeply, Han Li forced his body to relax as much as possible to alleviate the immense strain the “Gauze Mist Footwork” had placed on his muscles. Right now, he could only seize every opportunity to recover some strength, hoping to gain a slight edge in the next round of fighting.
He lowered his gaze to his left hand, which was still trembling slightly. The hand was completely numb, devoid of any sensation, and utterly useless for gripping his sword. It seemed the left-handed swordsmanship he had painstakingly practiced was temporarily out of commission; he could only fight with his remaining right hand.
A bitter smile touched Han Li’s heart. He had lost most of his strength, could no longer perform the wondrous Gauze Mist Footwork, and to make matters worse, could only fight one-handed. This was about as bad as a situation could get. It seemed he had no choice but to employ his final, hidden move.
Han Li glanced at the sun outside the room, estimating the time. He felt it was about right, perfectly suited for using this technique.
He then looked at the short sword embedded in the wall. That weapon was clearly out of reach; his opponent wouldn't allow him to casually walk over and retrieve it.
After a moment of thought, Han Li drew another weapon from his inner robe. It was another short sword, about half a chi long and still sheathed. Given its diminutive size, it was more aptly called a dagger. When he drew it from the scabbard, it appeared much broader and thicker than an ordinary dagger, yet was still brilliantly bright and looked incredibly sharp.
Tossing the scabbard aside, Han Li switched the sword to his right hand, extended his arm, and angled the blade toward his opponent, striking a posture ready to attack.
Doctor Mo took in all of this but did not rush forward to press his advantage. Instead, he clasped his hands behind his back, his expression suddenly becoming amiable. He spoke in a gentle, persuasive tone:
“Han Li, you’ve managed to dodge me time and again, which was truly beyond my expectations. But do you really think you can be as lucky as last time and escape my grasp once more? That footwork you used is indeed marvelous, I admit, but it seems to have considerable limitations. Just from looking at your stamina, it’s clear you can’t successfully execute it again. Why not just surrender obediently? You can tell, surely, that I have no intention of crippling you. If you comply with me, things might not be as terrible as you imagine.”
This chameleon-like shift in Doctor Mo’s attitude gave Han Li goosebumps. One moment the man played the kindly mentor, the next he was cold and ruthless, and now he was earnestly advising Han Li to simply wait for death. It left Han Li at a loss for words. Did the man really think he would lose his head and fall for such an obvious trap?
However, this very speech actually bolstered Han Li’s confidence a fraction. If the man weren’t wary of him, why would he resort to such childish means to deceive him?
Han Li grasped this instantly. He sighed softly and shook his head without uttering a single word, simply gesturing with the dagger toward his opponent, conveying his meaning perfectly.
The veins on Doctor Mo’s forehead bulged and twitched. Seeing that Han Li completely ignored his persuasion and instead provoked him with a weapon, he could no longer contain the fury surging within him.
“Court death!”
He suddenly took a massive step forward, spitting out viciously: “Proximity is but an abyss!”
Then, his entire figure seemed to flicker, and he drifted lightly to a spot just a few paces from Han Li, as if employing some ground-shrinking art that left one astonished.
Han Li also appeared greatly startled, his face a mask of panic. He hastily retreated two steps to put some distance between them, then held the dagger horizontally before him. He flourished it, creating a small shield of cold light to block Doctor Mo’s path, seemingly having completely forgotten the lesson he learned in their previous exchange.
Doctor Mo sneered inwardly; of course he wouldn’t be kind enough to warn his opponent. He split his hands apart, launching a dual-pronged attack toward Han Li, disregarding the glinting blade entirely.
Just as his two silver hands were about to plunge into the sword light, a soft laugh suddenly came from across the way. It was a hearty, unrestrained laugh—the kind of triumphant sound a hunter makes when his prey steps into the trap.
A jolt went through Doctor Mo’s heart. Unconsciously, he slowed his advance, his movements becoming slightly stiff. Then he heard another sentence, delivered in a frigid tone:
“Right now, you’re the one who’s fallen for a real trick! Look closely at the dagger in my hand!”
Upon hearing this, Doctor Mo couldn’t help but glance toward the dagger. He saw that at some point, his opponent had ceased the flourishing movements and adopted a strange posture. His upper body was leaning back slightly, the dagger held in one hand poised level at his waist, while his lower body was drawn back in a taut, ready-to-spring lunge. The entire figure looked remarkably odd, like someone drawing a great bow to shoot an arrow.
As for the dagger mentioned in the words, aside from having a faint, shimmering greenish glow, there was nothing unusual about it at all. This left Doctor Mo somewhat baffled. Was the opponent really trying to disrupt his concentration with this bizarre stance and a bluff, hoping to gain an advantage through trickery?
The thought made Doctor Mo feel a bit amused. He was just about to open his mouth and mock his opponent, when he suddenly saw Han Li charge forward explosively. He shot forth like an arrow loosed from a powerful bow, hurtling toward him with such speed that even Doctor Mo’s expression shifted.
Doctor Mo hurriedly brought his separated hands together in the middle, intending to clamp them around his opponent’s blade. But then he saw the short sword opposite him give a light shake, splitting and multiplying into over a dozen identical blades. They thrust toward him from various angles, real and indistinguishable from the fakes.
Doctor Mo snorted. In his mind, his estimation of Han Li dropped another notch. To use such a flashy but impractical technique before a master of his caliber—wasn’t that just seeking death? He could discern the location of the real blade at a single glance.
Therefore, he widened his eyes, locked onto the true sword’s trajectory, and kept his hand formation unchanged. Instead, he accelerated his strike, intending to shatter the blade in one blow, leaving his opponent with nothing but empty hands to surrender with.