Chapter 433 - 261: President of the Whig Society?

Fang Zhen stared at West for a moment.

Fang Zhen wasn’t particularly surprised by West’s request.

Even if a reliable source had sent word, for the people of the Curse Seal World, these Curse Sealers lived on the knife’s edge of survival.

They trusted their own swords more than anyone else’s words. No matter what they heard, they had to see it with their own eyes and use their blades to gauge their opponent’s true strength before they would believe it.

If Fang Zhen wanted to directly increase his status and influence in Lanxi City—the Curse Sealers’ main base—he really would have to display his power.

Fang Zhen vaulted off his Red Hare Warhorse with one hand, his body executing a nimble half-twist over the steed.

Ever since his constitution had improved, Fang Zhen found that his flexibility and balance had both increased by a huge margin, even without any specific training.

If he wanted to, he could now perform moves that would take a gymnast years of dedicated training to master.

Fang Zhen spun gracefully in the air before landing, his longspear in hand.

"Let’s make this quick. Time is short, so I won’t be holding back," Fang Zhen said.

Hearing this, West immediately frowned and narrowed his eyes, wrinkles appearing on his forehead.

"You’re very confident. A Martial Artist with immense self-assurance, certainly. But aren’t you being a bit too arrogant?" West said to Fang Zhen as he drew a Longsword from his waist.

The Longsword looked ordinary, but it was covered in fractured patterns, as if the entire blade had been shattered and then pieced back together. It looked shabby, yet it exuded a strange sense of danger.

’This must be an Extraordinary Weapon,’ Fang Zhen guessed, ’but it doesn’t matter to me.’

"Let’s begin." Fang Zhen wasted no more words. He pointed his longspear forward, assuming a relaxed, baiting stance aimed at West.

West, too, began to focus his mind, concentrating solely on the battle before him.

At that exact moment, Fang Zhen had a premonition. His extrasensory threshold had been triggered.

In an instant, he saw one second into the future: West would suddenly vanish and charge into his close-range with extreme speed.

However, while Fang Zhen could normally use his precognitive ability to sense West’s line of attack, he suddenly furrowed his brow. Something unprecedented was happening in his vision.

Where West should have been one second after his charge began, there were now two phantoms, not one.

Fang Zhen’s precognition allowed him to see one second into the future. But now, he was seeing two futures existing simultaneously—something that had never happened before.

In a duel between masters, one second was a very long time.

Fang Zhen’s mind raced as he analyzed what he saw: two versions of West, attacking from different directions.

One was charging straight at him for close-quarters combat. The other suddenly swung its arm, and West’s fractured Longsword abruptly extended.

It turned out the fragments of West’s shattered Longsword were connected by fine threads. With a single flick, the ordinary three-foot blade extended to a length of three or four meters.

With this super-long attack range, West intended to catch Fang Zhen off guard.

Both of these were phantoms seen within his precognitive vision.

Fang Zhen didn’t know which future West was real. However, in that split second, he sensed that the phantom charging straight at him was slightly more solid, while the one with the extended, transforming Longsword was fainter.

He didn’t know what this meant, but his battle-honed instincts, forged through countless fights, compelled him to act immediately.

Without the slightest hesitation, Fang Zhen thrust his longspear into the air.

HUMMM...

A tremor ran through the air as an intensely focused, transparent, rotating vortex of air shot out.

With a single thrust into empty space, Fang Zhen had used the fourth stage of the Li Shan Seal: Sky Splitting, channeling the technique through a piercing attack.

The incredibly solid vortex of air shot forward. West, who had been charging Fang Zhen, froze in his tracks. In an instant, the vortex flew five or six meters. With a BOOM, a large hole appeared in the center of the Tree of Blessings that West had just mentioned—a tree so thick it would take one person’s full embrace to circle its trunk.

The hole was the size of an adult’s two fists clenched together and was an almost perfectly neat circle, boring straight through to the other side of the trunk.

Throughout this process, the wood in the hole’s path was instantly pulverized, yet the trunk itself didn’t so much as shudder.

This showed that the power of the strike was incredibly pure and condensed, its destructive force focused within a tiny area without wasting a single shred of energy.

West stood frozen, his neck seemingly rigid as he slowly turned his head to look at the pierced Tree of Blessings.

After a long moment, West turned his stiff neck back, beads of cold sweat already covering his forehead.

West’s face was pale. After another long pause, he asked in a wooden tone, "Was that the fourth stage of the Power Mountain Seal?"

Fang Zhen nodded slightly. "So you recognize it."

West blurted out, "Was it Gwendolyn?"

West stopped abruptly mid-sentence.

He had probably been about to ask if Gwendolyn was the one who had taught Fang Zhen the fourth stage of the Power Mountain Seal.

But he must have immediately realized that Gwendolyn herself was only a third-stage Curse Sealer at best. She wouldn’t have the legacy, let alone the personal understanding, to teach it.

After a long moment, West let out a long breath. He seemed to have composed himself, and the color gradually returned to his face.

"I’ve lost. Gwendolyn wasn’t wrong in her letter. You truly are a once-in-a-century genius in the art of Curse Seals."