Her tight-fitting outfit was now riddled with holes, and some of her finer assets could be faintly glimpsed through the gaps.
This was precisely why Meng Yiran had gone for the kill the moment she broke free from the Blue Silver Grass. She was no longer merely angry—she was seething with a mix of rage and humiliation.
Watching from the sidelines, Dai Mubai murmured, "Xiao San's Blue Silver Grass Martial Soul really has a knack for stripping people bare. If he'd controlled it a bit more just now, his opponent might have conceded outright."
Whether it was Dai Mubai, Ma Hongjun, or Oscar, every one of them was staring unblinkingly at Meng Yiran. After all, she was quite the stunning beauty, and this hole-riddled outfit lent her an even more alluring, hazy charm. Dai Mubai and Oscar managed to restrain themselves somewhat, but fat Ma Hongjun was already drooling, looking ready for his wicked fire to surge upward at any moment.
Seeing that the Blue Silver Grass was no longer effective, Tang San furrowed his brow slightly. The tongue blade was already upon him—the sudden two-foot extension had come completely without warning. He couldn't keep dodging.
Tilting his body slightly, Tang San stopped retreating. Pushing off from the ground, he surged forward, barely grazing past the tongue blade. At the same time, his left hand drew with Crane Control force while his right hand struck down with Dragon Catch force, targeting the spot just below the snake head on the staff. If this were a real snake, then Tang San's target would be its vital point.
At this moment, Tang San finally understood why Meng Yiran was immune to the toxins on his Blue Silver Grass—her Martial Soul itself carried lethal poison, granting her a natural resistance to toxicity. And precisely because of this, she had been able to successfully break free from his binding technique.
With a muffled thud, the snake-head staff was knocked slightly upward. Meng Yiran's Soul Power was even more formidable than Tang San had imagined. Though the snake staff had been knocked away, Tang San did not get the chance to press his attack. Meng Yiran forcefully pulled the snake staff back, and with a slight shake of the hands gripping it, the staff transformed into eight streaks of light, all thrusting toward Tang San simultaneously.
These eight streaks of light shifted between real and illusory, carrying surging, overbearing Soul Power that covered nearly every space Tang San could dodge into.
And just at that moment, Tang San's eyes suddenly lit up. Deep purple light shot forth—the Purple Extreme Demon Eye.
Seeing Tang San's eyes suddenly turn purple, Meng Yiran couldn't help but pause for a brief instant. Her hands slowed slightly.
Every one of the eight streaks conjured by the snake-head staff could be said to be real, and could equally be said to be false. It was through constant shifting between real and false that they maintained their existence.
Even a master like Zhao Wuji, faced with this kind of attack, could only choose to block head-on with no other option. But before Tang San's Purple Extreme Demon Eye, the incredibly swift snake-head staff slowed to a crawl. Every trajectory was clearly mapped into Tang San's mind through the Purple Extreme Demon Eye.
Tang San's hands moved, extending forward simultaneously without hesitation. Soul Power suffused with adhesive force caused the snake-head staff to suddenly freeze. In the next instant, Tang San's right hand shot in like a bolt of lightning—a stroke of divine inspiration—and seized the actual body of the snake-head staff. The spot he grabbed was precisely the vital point he had struck earlier.
Meng Yiran felt the snake staff suddenly go rigid in her grip. All the illusory streaks of light vanished. But her attack was far from over.
The tongue blade that had shot forth from the snake-head staff suddenly slid downward in a strange arc, slashing directly toward Tang San's right hand gripping the staff. The sinister blade gleamed with an eerie blue sheen. Everyone knew that if this strike connected, it would likely—
Meng Yiran's reflexes were incredibly fast. Almost the very instant Tang San had grabbed the snake-head staff, the tongue blade had already descended upon him. In this situation, even if Tang San wanted to dodge, it was already too late. If he let go of the snake staff, Meng Yiran would inevitably drive the staff downward, and the tongue blade's target would immediately shift to Tang San's body.
As the saying went, an inch longer meant an inch stronger. Though Tang San's Ghost Shadow Phantom Trail was profound, in this situation it was nearly impossible to evade Meng Yiran's attack.
On the sidelines, Xiao Wu watching the fight cried out in alarm, starting to rush forward, but was caught and held back by Zhao Wuji, who had spotted her in time.
Zhao Wuji's face was equally grim, but in a fair match like this, if their side intervened rashly, it would violate the rules of the contest. Moreover, he believed Tang San was not so easily defeated. After all, this kid had once used Hidden Weapons to get the better of even him. And yet his most powerful attack technique still hadn't surfaced.
Facing the tongue blade slashing downward toward him, Tang San chose the simplest solution—one that was also practically suicidal. His right hand did not let go. Instead, his left hand quickly rose up, actually reaching directly for the tongue blade shooting from the snake staff.
"Xiao San!" Xiao Wu cried out again. She had shut her eyes in fright. She absolutely did not want to see Tang San's hand get severed.