I can return to the age of mysterious
Chapter 592 - 592 320 Your Turn to Sing My Turn to Act (6100)_1

Chapter 592: 320 Your Turn to Sing, My Turn to Act (6100)_1 Chapter 592: 320 Your Turn to Sing, My Turn to Act (6100)_1 Two arrogant beings, upon disagreement, have no alternative but to battle.

The man in the leather jacket suddenly lunges forward, instantly accelerating his speed far beyond the norm. He quickly extends his right hand, retracting his sharp nails into his palm, instantly tearing open a wound. A rich, blood-red energy suddenly emerges.

It lengthens inch by inch, taking shape inch by inch. It eventually forms into a longsword with only a blade, measuring about half a meter long.

He keeps his eyes locked on the curly-haired man, with a vicious glare. He swings his red sword, turning it into a red line aiming towards his opponent’s body.

Whoosh…

A gust of wind blows across, stirring the fallen leaves and sand on the ground.

The leaves are swept upward, as if they have encountered a sturdy wall of air. Strangely suspended in midair before gently falling, behind this wall of air, the curly-haired man’s hand in the air makes a grasping motion. He directs his icy gaze towards the oncoming man in the leather jacket.

The overly rapid Dead Blood captain, who was so fast he left afterimages, suddenly slowed down. The surrounding air seemed to congeal into a viscous glue, offering great resistance. Every action requires tremendous effort.

The man in the leather jacket, who was originally quick and fierce, now seems to be trotting, with the motion of his right hand swinging the sword unbelievably slow.

“Hmph! You are indeed a transcendent being with some unusual abilities. But it’s far from enough!” the curly-haired man sneers. He slowly closes his left hand, compresses the air, trying to make a fist.

The air in front of him responds to the curly-haired man’s action, becoming even more viscous in an instant. Its state shifts from mildly fluctuating to transparent, then from transparent to semi-transparent. Visible to the naked eye, it seems to have become a gelatinous object.

The man in the leather jacket is trapped in this pile of gelatin, with unceasing pressure from all directions. Like a pulsating stomach, it grinds and digests its food!

Crack, crack, crack…

The skin on the surface of his body suddenly cracks, torn open by the external pressure revealing nearly a hundred wounds. His blood gushes out, instead of falling to the ground, it spreads along the original trajectory in the air, like winding blood snakes.

“Just that.” The curly-haired man’s lips curl into a mocking smile, his left hand’s five fingers are about to clench tightly.

However, a roar rings out in the air, and the man in the leather jacket is enveloped in a red light. It seems that a layer of liquid is gushing out of the wound and spreading to every part of his body.

In an instant, his strength and speed skyrocket. The man in the leather jacket takes a step on the ground, and his entire person almost breaks out of the range of telekinesis.

The curly-haired man is taken aback and immediately takes off his right glove.

His two hands come together with a clap, making several complicated hand signs, dragging out an afterimage. Finally, his ten fingers intertwine, forming a fist.

The next second, a great force from the air exerts pressure on the man in the leather jacket, making him stumble in his mad dash.

His whole body is bent like a bow, as if he’s bearing a large truck on his back. His feet sink deep into the ground, his body cracks open with hundreds of wounds, blood spurts out of his physique like a ruptured water bag.

The man in the leather jacket roars deeply, like a beast.

His eyes bulge out, his tusks bleed, glaring fixedly at his opponent.

The curly-haired man’s face is calm, but he breathes a sigh of relief inwardly. The next second, he is infuriated by his own reaction. He glances to both sides, his two companions have already made a move, using their telekinetic powers to crush the entire squad of Dead Blood on the ground.

“How can mere physical strength possibly rival great telekinesis? Die!” The curly-haired man’s blue hair flies about like a veil. He maintains his original gesture of his hands clasped in front of his chest, slowly raises his right index finger, activating his Seal Technique.

This can be referred to as a type of psychological hint, connecting the hand sign and the telekinetic wave through relentless training over time.

Thus, during battle, specific gestures are quickly made. One’s telekinetic powers execute mental memory like programming, achieving instant explosion and amplification.

This a special technique passed down by the Mentalist Association.

The crossroad, in pale fog under faint sunlight.

Three silhouettes face different directions, their hands held up at chest level, forming different seals. Waves of invisible force spread out in the air, pouring down like a waterfall, ruthlessly slamming into the Dead Blood squad, causing a terrible effect.

One after another, the shadows wearing black are frozen in the viscous air, like bugs in amber. And then, they are bent by the enormous force, kneeling on the ground bit by bit. Their bodies rupture, bleeding red.

For a moment, the entire scene fell into eerie silence.

Only the sporadic sound of cracking bones can be heard.

Boom!

Finally, a member of Dead Blood is completely crushed to the ground, his entire skin cracks open with hundreds of wounds. The blood inside is compressed and squeezed out by the enormous pressure on his body.

What should have been splashed out a dozen meters is instead wrapped and restricted by the surrounding solidified air. Ultimately, it forms a blood-red flower about two meters in diameter. A cruelly gorgeous bloom.

Boom, Boom, Boom, Boom, Boom, Boom…

The explosion of the first Dead Blood member seems to have triggered a chain reaction.

In an instant, other members of the squad also explode under the pressure, one blood flower after another blooming. Only the man in the leather jacket remains, still advancing towards the edge.

“Let’s take him down together!”

The curly-haired man with his hands clasped whispers, his face somewhat pale, with a few beads of sweat visible on his forehead.