Chapter 256: The Power of a Single Sword Strike

With its mouth wide open, emitting a pungent stench, the Flaming Lion leaped forward to Rod’s side in an instant! Before Rod could dodge, it swung its front paw violently, creating a howling gust that rushed straight at Rod’s chest as if tearing through the sky.
“Damn it!” Rod cursed inwardly. There was no way to avoid it—Nightingale, who was behind him, surely couldn’t catch up in time to help him fend off this attack. In this life-or-death moment, Rod didn’t hesitate. Instinctively, he stepped aside to avoid the blow, using his most skilled sword techniques subconsciously under extreme pressure.
Though he tried to control it, the beginnings of Autumn Wind Sword appeared. A dark dragon-like blade rushed through the air toward the Flaming Lion’s paw. Since avoidance was impossible, he had no choice but to confront it head-on. Although Rod knew it was extremely dangerous—his strength was far inferior to the Flaming Lion’s monstrous power—he realized death was certain if he didn’t act. The outcome was uncertain, but it gave him a sliver of hope.
Boom… In an instant, the two collided, producing a dull roar as a wave of force spread outward. Nightingale, who had already approached, had to dodge quickly to avoid severe injury.
With a groan, Rod was thrown again. Severe pain shot through his palm, which went numb from the intense impact. Even the dark dragon-like blade nearly caused him to fall to the ground. After being flung nearly six or seven meters, he finally crashed into the city wall behind him with a dull thud.
“Cough, cough, cough…” The numbness in his arms and a feeling of obstruction in his chest made him cough uncontrollably. A trickle of blood flowed down from the corner of his mouth.
The Flaming Lion still aimed to pounce on him, seemingly unrelenting. Fortunately, Nightingale intercepted it at that moment, buying Rod some time to catch his breath. Seeing this, Rod secretly breathed a sigh of relief.
He took deep breaths to calm the turmoil within him, sucking in the air filled with strong blood scent as if reborn.

Bending over and supporting his body with Dark Dragon, he looked down. A crack had appeared in the palm of his right hand, with streams of blood flowing from it and down along Dark Dragon. Just one impact had cracked his palm, which filled Rod with dread. If he hadn’t drawn his sword to block the strike earlier, would he still be standing? Clearly not.

Looking up at Nightingale, who was fighting against the Flame Lion, he saw that the situation was extremely dangerous and she was in a dire state. Her once-glorious White Bone Whip showed signs of wear after the fierce battle, proving it to be an ordinary weapon unable to withstand such intense combat. A scream was heard as Nightingale finally couldn’t hold back and was knocked back several steps, spitting out blood before crashing heavily to the ground.

“Damn it! You beast, making me go mad!” he cursed inwardly, then let out a loud roar. Enduring the pain all over his body, Rod raised Dark Dragon again and charged forward. His anger, unwillingness to give up, and desire to survive overpowered his pain and exhaustion.

Rod didn’t notice that at that moment, Dark Dragon was emitting a faint dark glow. The blood flowing from his palm stopped as it reached the sword hilt. The blade of Dark Dragon seemed to have a small mouth, absorbing all of Rod’s blood without wasting a drop or letting any flow out. It disappeared completely, as if it had never existed.

As it continued to absorb blood, the blade of Dark Dragon gradually took on a strange purple hue from its original blackness. The dark purple blade became even more eerie, appearing far from being an ordinary weapon.

Yet no one noticed these changes. As Rod infused his combat energy into it, Dark Dragon was covered in a deep red aura, and its black sword light extended over ten centimeters, hiding any internal changes.

“Break the Sky!” With a roar, Rod unleashed this move out of anger. Pushed by his fury, he exerted all his strength without any hesitation, determined to go all out with no chance of retreat. This attack headed straight for the Flame Lion, carrying an unstoppable force.

The sword energy emanating from it was mixed with fierce killing intent, seemingly intent on tearing everything apart. Its tangible murderous aura made the Flame Lion tremble with fear. With a low growl, it instinctively stepped back.

The human before it—those eyes, that gaze, that faint red hue—made even it, the king of all beasts, tremble with fear. What kind of gaze was that? It dared not say; it had only encountered such a feeling among those humans before. As a high-tier magical beast, a quasi-saint-level creature, its wisdom was no less than that of any human. It could clearly judge everything, everything that humans could judge and think about. At this moment, it sensed the threat of death—a constant reminder that it couldn’t withstand this attack, this fierce strike. If it tried to resist, the outcome would only be its own defeat! Its eyes began to flicker slightly. After a low growl, it finally made up its mind. With a flash, it leaped swiftly backward, choosing to avoid the danger. It didn’t want to face this dangerous foe again; there were so many of its kind—let them fight against it; there was no need to take such a risk. “Hmph, trying to escape? No way!” Seeing the Flame Lion turn and dash backward, Rod smirked coldly. How could he not have seen this? He was in the ascendant now—how could he miss such a great opportunity? To lose this chance now, after building up such momentum, would be a shame. With a loud roar, he suddenly accelerated and chased after it. The Sky-Shattering Sword, carrying immense power, tore through space and struck at the Flame Lion’s back. Invisible sword energy swept by, leaving faint traces on the city walls like gusts of wind. “Break!” With a furious roar, the sword flashed with cold light, cutting through the sky in a streak of white, dimming the entire world before it. In this pitch-black night, it was as eye-catching as daylight. Many onlookers in the distance couldn’t help but look this way, drawn by that awe-inspiring power. Rod’s moves filled them with genuine fear. What kind of terrifying strength could create such an impact? Even a quasi-saint-level magical beast was fleeing—perhaps even a saint-level warrior couldn’t do this. “Who… on earth… is he?” Sitting collapsed on the ground, gasping heavily and clutching his chest, he stared at the fleeting figure ahead—feeling so familiar, as if he knew it well, like an old acquaintance. Especially that move he had used when facing danger and death before—it resembled that person, that technique so much. A very familiar feeling.

What about now? Though the moves were unfamiliar, the aura was unmistakable—exactly the same. In his mind, the two figures overlapped involuntarily.
“He!” Suddenly, Nightingale couldn’t help but exclaim in shock, her voice so soft that only she could hear it. Her eyes were filled with disbelief, as if she had seen a demon. The next moment, she became stunned.
“How is that possible! How could he… It’s impossible!” murmuring to herself as she stared at the man ahead, Nightingale was at a loss. The sheer shock left her lost in her own thoughts.
“Ahh…” A heart-wrenching scream pulled her back to reality. She hurriedly looked ahead, and what she saw left her incredulous once again. Rubbing her eyes to confirm she wasn’t dreaming, she took a deep breath, her eyes filled with horror.
At that moment, the Flaming Lion was lying on the ground, convulsing. A long sword was embedded in its back, protruding from its abdomen with a glaring red glow. The man stood coldly in front of it, holding the sword in one hand and stepping on the lion’s side, calmly watching as it gradually lost its life force.
“Hmph, beast! You shouldn’t have come here!” Under the gazes of everyone present, Rod muttered indifferently. With a skilled swing of his sword, he severed the Flaming Lion’s head. With a flick of his Dark Dragon, an egg-sized fire-red crystal flew into the air. He caught it without hesitation and stuffed it into his chest. The core of a quasi-saint-level magical beast was indeed a valuable item, and Rod certainly wouldn’t give it up. The great battle had destroyed so many precious things, leaving him pained for a long time. He had never claimed to be a saint, nor had he reached a point where he remained unimpressed by wealth.
Immediately afterward, he drew out his Dark Dragon. As the Flaming Lion trembled its last times, Rod stared at the dragon, feeling strange. The moment he touched the Flaming Lion earlier, a peculiar sensation had flooded his mind, along with a strange feeling in his hand.

The Dark Dragon’s weight seemed to vanish entirely; it was as light as a feather, floating effortlessly. A mysterious black-purple light flashed, allowing it to easily pierce through the Flaming Lion’s defenses and penetrate its body. The ease of it far exceeded his imagination. He knew very well his own strength—this couldn’t be that easy, nor even possible. The reason he succeeded earlier seemed to be due to the Dark Dragon’s sharpness, its ability to cut through metal like mud. But since when had it reached such a level? Rod was utterly puzzled. Apart from a slight change in the sword’s color due to the blood, there seemed to be no other changes—yet what about that light? Unable to help but frown, Rod realized that the answer to everything might lie in that light.