The King Of Warriors novel (Jared Chance) novel Chapter 5260

“Splendid—just what I wanted!” Alice barked a laugh that shook the rafters. She surged forward, her dinner-plate hand swinging down like an avalanche to meet the descending sword.

Steel and flesh collided with a metallic scream. Clang!

The shock wave blossomed outward, splintering windows, toppling tables, and hurling weaker disciples against the fractured walls of Whispers Tower. Within that maelstrom, the two masters fused into a single blur, neither yielding an inch.

Corin's sword art unfolded like living calligraphy. One moment, the blade danced light as sunlight on water, darting away before an eye could track it. The next it struck with thunderous finality, raw power crashing through the air in unstoppable surges. Every stroke dripped with ages of sword force insight, and the gathered disciples of Sword Sect felt blood roar hot through their veins.

Alice answered with brute grandeur. Her style was an open gate—sweeping, battering, magnificent. Backed by the durability of an Earthly Immortal, she met the sword head-on, each palm strike packed with enough force to make the very air tremble.

Blade light and palm shadows intertwined, turning day to storm-tossed night. Roars echoed without pause; tables exploded to sawdust, pillars split, and the ancient tower shuddered on its groaning beams. Spectators scrambled into the courtyard, forced back by the violence, and wonder stamped across every face.

“Good heavens, so this is what a duel between Earthly Immortals looks like—it's terrifying!”

“Corin lives up to every rumor. That swordplay is unbelievable!”

“And Madam Pudge? Her flesh is absurd. She's catching those blades bare-handed!”

The contest raged on and on; by the time someone bothered to count, the pair had already crossed three hundred exchanges without a clear victor.

At last, fatigue bled through their poise. Corin's tunic hung in ribbons where her palm wind had sliced him, and fresh blood traced a stubborn line from the corner of his mouth.

Alice fared no better; crimson welts, some cut to bone, wept across her barrel chest, and her breath came ragged. Both warriors had spent oceans of strength for the right to still stand.

Her body is iron. My technique alone won't finish this fight. He gathered the last of his strength around the sword hilt, knuckles whitening.

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