Urban Extraordinary Immortal Doctor
Chapter 450: Whirlwind and Rainstorm Eighteen Swords

Chapter 450: Chapter 450: Whirlwind and Rainstorm Eighteen Swords

Qin Yaorao’s right hand, without anyone’s notice, had already tightly clasped Fang Bai’s left hand, both palms now drenched with sweat.

Although she did not understand martial arts, when Wen Shiba’s sword thrust forward, she too could feel the endless intent to kill embedded within it. Her heart skipped a beat, her eyes tightly shut, not daring to look.

"Nephew Wen, please show mercy!"

Qin Ling’s voice was somber and urgent as he reminded Wen Shiba, hoping he would not be too ruthless and harm Ghost Hand. Otherwise, the enmity forged between them would be one of life and death.

Wen Shiba ignored Qin Ling’s words, his sword thrust carrying an even greater momentum. True Yuan roared, sword qi crisscrossed, sealing all of Ghost Hand’s escape routes.

Wen Shiba was full of confidence in his sword strike, believing it to be the most brilliant and pinnacle thrust of his life.

He seemed to have already seen the scene of Ghost Hand’s fists being cut off, his screams of terror. A cold, cruel smile even began to tug at the corner of his mouth.

When the soft sword in Wen Shiba’s hand was still a foot away from his chest, Ghost Hand moved.

Ghost Hand dodged Wen Shiba’s seemingly guaranteed strike with inconceivable speed, then swung his fist directly at the soft sword’s blade.

Wen Shiba’s soft sword, forged from special materials, was incomparably flexible and sharp. With the fierce sword qi wrapped around the blade, ordinary martial artists did not dare to touch it with their flesh, as injury was certain.

Yet Ghost Hand, audaciously, struck at the soft sword with his fist. In Wen Shiba’s view, that hand was doomed to a bloody, blurry end.

Clang—

Ghost Hand’s fist striking the blade of Wen Shiba’s soft sword produced a resonant sound akin to the clash of metals.

In the moment of the fist meeting the sword, the arm that Wen Shiba used to hold his sword trembled as if electrocuted.

Subsequently, a domineering and wildly aggressive force spread from the blade to his arm, causing severe pain in his palm, almost causing him to lose grip on the soft sword and send it flying.

"What a hard fist! What overbearing force behind the punch!"

Wen Shiba was shocked, his face slightly changing. He quickly retracted his soft sword. After a flourish in the air, he leveled it and then slashed horizontally at Ghost Hand’s waist.

The punch Ghost Hand had just thrown made Wen Shiba drop all his condescension and execute his family’s ultimate technique, "Swift Wind, Sudden Rain Eighteen Swords."

"Swift Wind, Sudden Rain Eighteen Swords" was a hereditary sword technique of the Misty Rain Tower’s Wen Family. Though it was comprised of only eighteen moves, each was more powerful than the last. Fully executed, the sword intent spread far and wide, engulfing all directions like a sweeping gale or a torrential downpour, its momentum astounding.

Wen Shiba began practicing this familial sword technique from a young age, and by the age of eighteen, he had fully mastered it, no disciple under forty from Misty Rain Tower could withstand his continuous eighteen sword strikes. Hence, he renamed himself "Wen Shiba."

With the first sword strike launched, not waiting for the move to finish, Wen Shiba rapidly followed with the second, third, fourth swords...

Each strike was faster than the last. By the sixth, the combined power of the six strikes surged, then burst forth instantaneously.

Where the sword passed, the air and fallen leaves on the ground stirred into a frenzied dance, swirling towards Ghost Hand in the direction of the thrust.

Those around them, except for Fang Bai, were all moved by Wen Shiba’s swordsmanship,

"If it were me, not giving it my all, I probably wouldn’t be able to withstand this combined force of six strikes, either! Misty Rain Tower is indeed a grand sect of the Secular Ancient Martial World, truly profound!"

With a grave expression, Qin Ling watched Wen Shiba and once again grew concerned for Ghost Hand.

Wen Shiba’s "Swift Wind Rapid Rain Eighteen Swords" was several times more powerful than the first sword he had thrust out. Although Ghost Hand was able to block that one, it wasn’t necessarily the case that he could fend off the continuous onslaught of this sword technique’s killing move.

In Wen Xiangxin’s eyes, there was even more a look of admiration. In his opinion, his son’s sword technique had significantly improved from before, and perhaps Ghost Hand would suffer an injury and be defeated without even having to face all eighteen swords.

When that time came, he would make sure to harshly have his son humiliate those two ignorant brats, letting them know that Misty Rain Tower is not a force to be trifled with by just anyone.

Ghost Hand who was now enveloped in Wen Shiba’s sword momentum, remained composed, his eyes still carrying a mocking light, as if Wen Shiba’s ultimate sword technique was still not worthy of his attention.

Meanwhile, Ghost Hand was quietly circulating the Golden System Technique "Buddha’s Fury Golden Staff Technique", with his Golden Attribute True Essence carrying an unstoppable momentum whirling rapidly inside him, and infusing into his fists.

Ghost Hand possessed a Metal Spirit Root, and Fang Bai, considering his constitution and foundational strength, had passed on the Golden System Technique "Buddha’s Fury Golden Staff Technique" to him.

This Golden System Technique, which Fang Bai had learned years ago from a Buddha, was not of a very high rank in terms of cultivation techniques; however, when practiced to the peak of perfection, the force of True Essence unleashed by a single punch was like a ten thousand pounds Zen Staff crashing down, capable of splitting mountains and parting rivers.

Although Ghost Hand’s cultivation level wasn’t high, when he circulated this Golden System Technique, an ordinary punch from him was no longer something that martial artists of Wen Shiba’s level could contend with.

As Wen Shiba’s six-fold sword momentum surged with the force of a raging torrent, Ghost Hand’s fist struck out once again, like a Buddha waving a Zen Staff, with a faint golden glow even discernible at the fist.

Clang—

The sound of metal clashing rang out again, followed by gasps from several onlookers.

Nobody had anticipated that Ghost Hand’s seemingly simple punch could not only dissipate Wen Shiba’s sword momentum but also send his flexible sword flying out of his grip, landing in a distant pond.

Wen Shiba’s flexible sword was forged from special materials. Had it been an ordinary sword, it would have already been shattered into pieces by the force within Ghost Hand’s punch.

Silence!

The sword momentum disappeared, and the tumult subsided, bringing a deathly silence to the scene, punctuated only by the sound of the wind, falling leaves, and the breathing of onlookers.

Qin Ling sharply noticed that Wen Shiba, who stood there dumbfounded, had an expression tinged with both fear and pain. The hand with which he held his sword was continuously trembling slightly, and drops of blood were falling to the ground from his fingers.

Clearly, in that brief and intense clash, Wen Shiba had been injured and had suffered a considerable loss.

"Shiba! Are you alright?"

Wen Xiangxin, who had also noticed his son’s abnormal state, wore a shocked expression and called out in a deep voice.

He couldn’t fathom how Ghost Hand’s simple punch could cause his son to lose his sword and even sustain injuries.

Wen Shiba stood as if soulless, his arms hanging by his sides, showing no reaction to his father’s questioning.

At that moment, his mind was buzzing with a "hum". The scene that had just unfolded replayed over and over in his head, filling him with panic.

When Ghost Hand’s punch had smashed out, he seemed to have heard faint Buddhist chanting near his ear, and before his eyes appeared the image of a towering Buddha clad in Buddhist robes, whose height spanned several meters. That imposing Buddha glared down with fierce eyes, sinewy arm holding a Zen Staff, and struck out angrily towards him.

That Zen Staff seemed to carry the weight of ten thousand jin, falling like a small mountain, striking him with awe and rendering him too terrified to resist.

By the time he came back to his senses, his flexible sword had already flown from his grasp, and the base of his palm had splintered, his entire body felt as uncomfortable as if it had fallen apart. (PS: Vote for recommendation!)