King's Awakening-Chapter 758 - : Slaying the Old Beggar Part Three

Chapter 758: Chapter 758: Slaying the Old Beggar Part Three

The old beggar furrowed his brows, unsure of what to do for a moment. Various response strategies quickly flashed through his mind, and in the end, he decided to make another move, striving to end White Mitchell’s life.

The old beggar stared at White Mitchell, his eyes reflecting cold indifference and resolution. Slowly, he raised his arm and abruptly, a swishing sound ripped through the air as a skinny, bone-like palm attacked towards White Mitchell.

White Mitchell, enduring severe bodily pain and biting down hard, gathered an incredibly strong force all over his body. He quickly flipped his body to avoid the old beggar’s swipe and threw a counter punch.

A deafening shockwave quickly spread out, destroying the surrounding trees into shattered fragments. White Mitchell’s punch, filled with endless power, landed hard on the beggar’s chest.

The old beggar was forced to retreat several steps, crashing into a large tree and shattering its branches as if by a storm. His face turned pale, but there wasn’t a hint of retreat.

White Mitchell was panting heavily, but he didn’t stop his assault. He was determined to defeat the old beggar thoroughly to protect the nearby villagers and himself.

...

The old beggar watched White Mitchell, a sneer flashing in his eyes. He could see that White Mitchell’s body was already pushed to its limits. Making another move could exact a greater cost.

The old beggar slowly raised his arms, conjuring countless dark shadows that surrounded White Mitchell. These shady figures, carrying a destructive force, crazily charged at White Mitchell.

White Mitchell felt an unprecedented pressure; he knew he was up against a formidable opponent he had never encountered before. Calming his inner panic, he dodged the attacks of these dark figures with all his strength.

White Mitchell dodged skillfully, simultaneously using his Inner Strength to form a strong airflow to resist the impact of these shadowy figures.

As time passed, White Mitchell gradually familiarized with the old beggar’s attack patterns, and he began to find opportunities for counter-attacks.

White Mitchell swung his fists, launching wave after wave of fierce punches that shattered the shadowy figures. He suppressed the old beggar like a surging storm with a deafening speed, forcing him to defend with all his might.

Summoning all his strength, White Mitchell let loose a resounding roar and suddenly punched out, sending the old beggar flying. The old beggar’s body flew backward, impacting the ground and raising a cloud of dust.

White Mitchell quickly rushed towards the fallen old beggar, knowing he shouldn’t miss this golden opportunity.

The old beggar struggled up, his face distorted with fury. His heart burned with anger as he fixed his gaze intently on White Mitchell, looking for a chance to counter.

White Mitchell watched the old beggar calmly, his eyes expressed determination. He knew that the battle had reached a fever pitch, and any moment of hesitation could lead to failure.

Once again, both men engaged in a fierce clash, a brawl akin to two wild beasts. Their bodies crossed in the air, resonating thunderous collisions.

Relying on his exceptional martial arts skills, White Mitchell dodged the old beggar’s brutal attacks while looking for opportunities to counteract. Each of his strikes was unstoppable, swift and fierce.

The old beggar might be advanced in years, but he still maintained an outstanding agility. He cleverly maneuvered himself, defending against White Mitchell’s attacks with extreme agility and occasionally launching fierce counters.

The pair roamed back and forth on the gentle slope, with the martially skilled White Mitchell moving at a horse-like speed amidst the old beggar’s attacks. Though the beggar’s movements were agile, White Mitchell could always find his flaws and aimed for a knockout.

White Mitchell’s movements were light and nimble, akin to a butterfly fluttering amidst the old beggars’ attacks, never entangled. His legs moved alternately, his body as willowy as a leaf, he dodged a vicious punch, then immediately retaliated like a lightning bolt, striking the old beggar’s arm in a flash.

The old beggar roared, then cleverly dodged White Mitchell’s attack by lowering his body, and his right fist struck out like a cannonball at White Mitchell’s shoulder. White Mitchell quickly dodged, performed a midair flip, his hands like sharp blades, cutting towards the old beggar.

The old beggar chuckled craftily, lifting his left foot to dodge White Mitchell’s attack, and then quickly threw a kick towards White Mitchell’s chest. White sensed the danger; he raised his arm to block the old beggar’s kick, and then turned swiftly to pounce on the beggar’s back in an eerie posture.

The old beggar felt a sense of suffocation in his chest, but he did not stop attacking. He slapped his palm fiercely backwards, hitting White Mitchell’s abdomen. White was pushed back a few steps by the blow, but there was no sign of retreat in his eyes; instead, his determination intensified.

White Mitchell quickly rolled up his sleeves, revealing his slim yet strong arms, and then made a swift move toward the old beggar like a gust of wind. Seeing this, the old beggar showed a smile, suddenly striking an eerie pose.

White Mitchell frowned slightly, feeling a strong force emanating from the old beggar. His handsome face revealed a touch of shock; he did not expect the old beggar to have such strength.

The old beggar suddenly slapped toward White Mitchell’s chest. White retreated a step while making a palm strike to meet the old beggar’s attack. Two powerful forces collided, producing a deafening booming sound.

White Mitchell’s eyebrows were slightly furrowed; he could feel the old beggar’s palm imbued with immense strength, like a vigorous current sucking him in. He dared not be careless; all his strength focused into his palm to resist the beggar’s attack.

The clash of their strength was akin to tumultuous mountains and oceans, shaking the surrounding trees and scattering the leaves. As their fists and palms collided, a wave of wind swept through, filling the air with chilling currents.

Both White Mitchell and the old beggar were engaged in a fierce battle, their strengths almost at peak. They continuously dodged each other’s attacks while seeking vulnerabilities to seize victory in one fell swoop.

Suddenly, White Mitchell made a sneak attack. He leaped toward the old beggar’s back like a nimble cat. The old beggar detected White’s intention and quickly turned around, his right leg whipping towards White Mitchell’s cheek like a whip.

White Mitchell quickly landed and successfully dodged the old beggar’s leg strike. He spun nimbly and launched a powerful palm strike toward the old beggar’s torso.

The old beggar was alarmed and hurriedly turned to dodge White’s palm strike. However, Mitchell did not stop. His palm followed relentlessly like a raging flame, instantly enveloping the old beggar.

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The old beggar only felt the fiery palm engulfing him, involuntarily drawing a cold breath, and found himself plunged into a state akin to being in a sizzling furnace.

At this moment, a crafty gleam flickered in White Mitchell’s eyes. He lifted his left leg and defiantly slammed it down, driving a kick towards the beggar’s chest.

The old beggar instantly felt an immense force assaulting him. His whole body vibrated, being kicked and sent flying. His body arced through the air like a cannonball, finally landing heavily on the ground.

White Mitchell cracked a faint smile. He was not proud for defeating the old beggar but instead became more vigilant. He knew the old beggar was not someone he could easily handle.

At that moment, the old beggar got up from the ground, his face bearing a ferocious grin like an injured beast. His voice was low and hoarse, “Kid, you’re still too green!”

White Mitchell frowned, sensing a more formidable aura radiating from the old beggar.

An unsavory stench suddenly emanated from the beggar’s body, making the surrounding air oppressive. White Mitchell’s face changed slightly; this aura seemed to be laced with an evil force, capable of draining his strength.

Suddenly the old beggar threw open his arms, his body surface suddenly inflamed with a black flame. The flames roared, casting his figure in a red light. His voice became low and menacing, “White Mitchell, do you think you can easily defeat me? You’re too naive! Now, witness true power!”

As his words fell, a blade formed of black flame sprung from his palm, slashing towards White Mitchell. The blade moved swiftly, stirring up a surge of scorching air as if capable of burning everything into nothingness.

White Mitchell’s figure flickered, flashing to the beggar’s side in an instant, dodging the flame blade. He concentrated his True Qi energy into his palm, delivering a palm strike to the beggar’s chest. However, his palm was enveloped by a layer of black flame, forming an indestructible barrier that forcefully blocked White’s attack.

The old beggar let out a hearty laugh, “Kid, you still have a long way to go!” He extended his palm, a black flame dragon condensed from his palm, hurtling towards White. The flame dragon writhed and slithered, carrying a threatening aura capable of destroying everything.

White Mitchell calmed down, knowing that he must put his all into it. He swiftly turned his body, dodging the flame dragon’s attack. Simultaneously, his palm once again gathered True Qi energy, a glint crossed over, launching a giant sword shadow from his palm.

The sword shadow, akin to a flash of lightning, sliced straight towards the old beggar. A flicker of terror flashed in the beggar’s eyes as he took a nimble step, his figure seemingly transformed into a puff of black smoke, instantly evading the sword shadow’s attack.

White Mitchell sneered, without pausing his assault. His punches and kicks were unceasing, each move filled with boundless power. His movement techniques were incomparably agile, like a soft breeze, able to transform into a ferocious beast at any moment.

Although the old beggar was evading White Mitchell’s attacks with agility, he gradually felt the pressure mounting. White Mitchell was far stronger than he had expected, forcing him to maintain a high level of vigilance at all times.

Suddenly, White Mitchell’s punch blasted out, instantly sending the old beggar flying backward. The beggar’s body traced an arc midair before heavily crashing onto the ground. He gasped for breath, his face pallid, appearing to be completely exhausted.

White Mitchell walked up to the beggar with an indifferent expression, “You’ve lost.”

The old beggar broke into a grim smile, “Kid, do you think you can defeat me so easily? You’re too naive!” He swung his hand suddenly, and a black flame blade cut through the night sky, cleaving towards White Mitchell.

White Mitchell’s eyes narrowed slightly, and he quickly retreated several steps, dodging the old beggar’s attack. The fiery blade passed before him, its blade blazing, turning the earth and rocks on the ground instantly black.

Surprise flickered across White Mitchell’s face, the old beggar had such a skill hidden. He immediately adjusted his mentality, fully focused on preparing for the next round of showdown.

With a grab, the old beggar hurled the wooden stick that lay on the ground, sweeping towards White Mitchell. Although the wooden stick was a common training tool, it became surprisingly flexible in the hands of the beggar.

A fighting spirit flashed in White Mitchell’s eyes. He leaped, avoiding the wooden stick’s assault with ease. His figure seemed like a falcon, swiftly weaving around the old beggar, attacking mercilessly with a kick here, a palm strike there.

Nevertheless, the old beggar dodged White Mitchell’s attacks nimbly, seemingly well versed in the tactics of veteran fighters. Relying on his resilient willpower and physical strength, he was embroiled in intense hand-to-hand combat with White Mitchell.

The two figures leapt and somersaulted in the night sky, their movements interweaving with spectacular flashes of light, a breathtaking sight.

White Mitchell’s fighting abilities were unrivaled, yet the old beggar time and again escaped danger with his experience and skills. His legs, sturdy as an old tree, sometimes remained steady as a mountain, sometimes fluttering like the wind, effectively dissipating White Mitchell’s attacks.

The bright moon in the sky gradually obscured by dark clouds, their figures shrouded in darkness.

White Mitchell felt his physical strength depleting rapidly. If things continued this way, he would be unlikely to defeat the old beggar. Deciding to make a kill with one decisive blow, he intentionally left an opening in his defense.

The old beggar, seeing the opportunity, a sly smile flashed in his eyes. He swiftly charged forward, his right hand suddenly clawing towards White Mitchell’s waist. His grip carried a force with enough power to tear apart iron cloth.

White Mitchell drew a deep breath, a bitter smile curling at the corner of his mouth. He knew, the beggar had seen through his ploy. However, he didn’t back down, instead, fighting back with full force.

With a swinging sweep from his left hand, an invisible force rolled out, deflecting the old beggar’s right hand instantly. Simultaneously, his right hand clutched a hidden dagger at his waist, swiftly cutting through the air, aiming straight at the old beggar’s heart.

The dagger was fast and powerful, its aura compelling. The old beggar too showed no weakness. His right hand was desperately fending off White Mitchell’s attack, while his left hand recently waved, surprisingly pulling out a whip to coil up the dagger.

Surprise flashed in White Mitchell’s eyes. Unexpectedly, the old beggar proficiently avoided his lethal strike. He was secretly relieved that he had not underestimated the old beggar.

The old beggar skillfully controlled the whip to neutralize White Mitchell’s offenses, while his agile figure dancing in the air, spinning gracefully. The whip waved like a Spirit Snake in midair, making it hard for White Mitchell to discern his attack trajectory.

In a flash, White Mitchell evaded from the left side of the old beggar, with a fierce swing of his right hand, a silver glow flashed, a silvery longsword appeared in his hand. His swordsmanship was exquisite, his sword momentum flowing like water while charging forward. The sword tip directly targeted the old beggar’s back.

The old beggar sensed the murderous intent in White Mitchell’s sword momentum. Quickly retracting his whip with his right hand, he flicked his wrist with his left hand, drawing out a short knife. Twisting his body, he aimed his left hand’s short knife directly at White Mitchell’s waist while his right hand’s short knife accurately blocked White Mitchell’s longsword.

The figures of the two individuals crossed in a blink, their swords clashing in mid-air to create sparkles. White Mitchell slightly furrowed his brows, inwardly amazed at how the old beggar could simultaneously wield two swords and skilfully counter his attacks.

The confrontation between the two was brief and decisive, their forms swiftly separating. White Mitchell steadied himself while clasping his longsword, while the old beggar sheathed his weapons, resting them on his chest, his gaze fixated deeply on White Mitchell, without uttering a word.

White Mitchell, panting heavily, was filled with doubts. He knew the old beggar, despite his apparent age, was no ordinary man. This was evident from their recent clash. He decided to no longer conceal his own strength, seeing that his opponent had already seen through him, he had nothing left to hide.

Silently, he muttered to himself, “White as snow, shadows of the sword dance!”

White Mitchell resembled a white phoenix, rapidly dodging and darting about, his longsword transforming into a flurry of white sword shadows, dancing in every direction. The sword shadows sketched out beautiful arcs in the air, each slash seemingly carrying the immense power of nature.

The old beggar’s gaze shifted slightly, not out of astonishment towards White Mitchell’s sword momentum, but rather a glint of excitement in his eyes. Flicking his index finger, he suddenly leapt backward into mid-air, his body upside-down, aiming a powerful kick towards White Mitchell.

This kick was akin to the collapse of a mountain, creating a whistling wind. Torn by intense pain, White Mitchell found himself thrown off his feet by one fierce kick, and went flying back.

Struggling to rise from the ground, White Mitchell’s robe was in tatters, his body drenched in blood. He gripped his longsword tightly, a flash of determination in his eyes. He knew he couldn’t lose, nor retreat, as he was the embodiment of justice and righteousness.

He rushed forth once more, swords crisscrossing, each move deadly without peer. His attacks flowed like a relentless tide, each offensive acting as if a raging storm, pushing the old beggar to his limits.

The old beggar wasn’t falling behind. Lifting his left leg, he sent a swift and sharp kick towards White Mitchell’s waist while the swords in his right hand danced and formed countless sword shadows, aiming for White Mitchell’s heart.

The speed of their attacks was growing faster, their techniques growing fiercer, and the scene resembled a battlefield where sparks flew. White Mitchell was reciting in his heart, as strength gradually gathered within his body. He knew now was the time to reveal his true strength.

All of a sudden, a shake ran through White Mitchell’s body. His intention seeped into his sword, and a dazzling sword light rapidly spread out, illuminating the entire battlefield. The sword light was sharp and ruthless, cutting through the night sky. White Mitchell’s sword momentum became even fiercer, and each swing of the sword seemed to carry the power of mountains and rivers.

The old beggar noticed the change in White Mitchell’s strength. His face turned slightly pale as he hurriedly used all his might to resist. But he gradually discovered he couldn’t completely block White Mitchell’s attacks and finally, a look of terror appeared in his eyes.

Seizing the opportunity, White Mitchell made his move. Plunging his heart into it, he gambled all his strength to swing his sword, launching a devastating attack that could destroy the heaven and earth.

In an instant, sword light flooded the area like a rainbow, causing the very colors of heaven and earth to shift. The sword light violently converged into a tremendously sharp sword, continuously spreading its influence. White Mitchell’s body dispersed into countless white sword shadows, rushing towards the old beggar.

A malicious glint flashed within the old beggar’s eyes. His right leg gave a forceful push, and his body exploded with incredible strength. He lunged forward, his dagger in his right hand directly meeting White Mitchell’s sword.

A resounding boom was heard as two powerful forces collided, creating a deafening explosion. White Mitchell felt his entire body numb from the shock, almost losing all sensation.

In that moment, the two men’s strength had peaked. Their bodies were torn apart, splattered with blood. Every part of their bodies was in pain, but White Mitchell did not retreat, instead feeling a burning flame of determination and resolve in his chest.

He gathered every ounce of his strength, firmly grasped the longsword in his right hand, and a look of resolve flashed across his eyes. He took a deep breath, using all his strength, fiercely swinging the longsword in his hand.

Sword light scattered everywhere, as if a dragon had come to life. The sword aura radiated infinite heat. The old beggar could only feel a hot energy quickly enveloping him, involuntarily causing him to take a few steps back.

Seizing this opportunity, White Mitchell made his attack, the sword momentum crisscrossing in all directions, carrying an unmatched aura of slaughter. His attack speed was incredibly fast, every swing of the sword was as quick as lightning.

Fear gradually appeared in the old beggar’s eyes. His fear and indignance turned into an indescribable strength that made his attacks even fiercer. But just as he thought he could turn the tables, a sword light suddenly pierced through his defenses, striking straight at his heart.