Although Armad experienced the sharp sting of the three assaults that targeted his torso, he was quite confident that the strikes had not breached his skin, not even superficially. In fact, rather than slicing through his flesh, the contact between the attacks and his dermis produced a thunderous clang that resonated ominously through the air.
The first assault involved a razor-sharp blade that had been meticulously imbued with a luminous seal, a mark of enchantment that glowed with an otherworldly light.
The assailant had deliberately chosen not to infuse their attacks with their innate cultivation energy, aware that any attempt to do so would be futile against Armad. With his lineage hailing from the renowned Wilberforce bloodline, his spiritual sense was so acute that it could penetrate through any use of the White Amulets—artifacts designed to mask one's cultivation aura. Instead, they opted for potent seals that, when activated, significantly amplified the velocity and lethality of their weapons. These seals were not only adhered to their flesh but also their armaments, forming a symbiosis of man and weapon.
Moreover, the ambushers had coated their blades with a particularly insidious seal of poison, a vile concoction synthesized from the venoms of diverse snake species. The consequence of such a preparation was clear: even a shallow incision would set the clock ticking towards Armad's inevitable demise, as the poison would relentlessly spread through his veins.
However, the anticipated effect of their weapons was not to be realized. Upon impact with Armad's formidable physique, the blades began to falter. With an audible crack, a lengthy fissure rapidly spread down each knife, ultimately culminating in their fragmentation and subsequent disintegration into countless particles that vanished like mist.
An expression of profound disbelief was etched onto the faces of the ambushers, none more so than on Nura Bayajidda, whose mouth hung agape in shock. Known for possessing a Toughness Body—a physique hardened to the extremes of human capability, often favored in physical combat over-reliance on cultivation energy—Nura Bayajidda was well-acquainted with the concept of bodily resilience. His selection for the ambush was no coincidence; the kings who had orchestrated this attack were well-informed of Armad's potential to harness a martial skill that could elevate the Toughness of his body. Such techniques were legendary within the Wilberforce Tribe, and it was not beyond reason to suspect that Armad might have employed one to bolster his defenses.
Nevertheless, martial arts, no matter how profound or ancient, are not without their limits. Even the most esteemed masters of these arts eventually encounter the boundaries of bodily fortitude—the point at which flesh and bone can withstand no more.
Nura Bayajidda, having trained in the skill of Toughness himself, had dedicated a considerable portion of his life to studying these limits. While he had not embarked on worldwide travels like one of his fellow ambushers, his knowledge of the extent to which martial arts practitioners could fortify their bodies was extensive. Such information was critical for their mission, for underestimating an opponent's capacity for resilience could spell the difference between success and failure—or in their case, the unexpected shattering of their blades against an unyielding human anvil.
Nura Bayajidda knows that even individuals who have attained the fourth or fifth levels in martial arts may not possess a physique rivaling the toughness of Nura Bayajidda. Nonetheless, Nura Bayajidda himself recognizes that, despite his formidable bodily resilience, the attacks are potent enough to penetrate and damage his flesh, potentially harming his organs – though his heart might remain protected from such injuries.
Contrastingly, the assaults on Armad did not even leave a scratch on his skin. What truly bewildered his assailants was not simply the ineffectiveness of their efforts against Armad; it was the astonishing fact that their weapons, crafted from the toughest black metal, were being destroyed upon impact with Armad’s skin. Their hands became numb with the cold backlash of their failed attacks. Unexpectedly, they felt a chilling sensation in their limbs, while Armad, the target of their fury, remained unaffected. It was as if their blows had hit a boulder, not the body of a man. This unexpected outcome might be attributed to their decision to not utilize their cultivation powers, depending solely on the strength and agility provided by the enchanted seals they had placed upon themselves and embedded within their weaponry. In a strategic move, they had all donned White-Amulet to mask the energy of their cultivation, keeping it hidden from Armad’s keen spiritual sense from detecting it, as well as to conceal the rhythm of their heartbeats. The White Amulet, while effective in subterfuge, came with the price of diminishing their innate power, which explained the acute pain they felt from the recoil of their attacks – they were not utilizing their full potential in combat.
Amidst this reflection, Armad was internally strategizing the best approach to dispatch his foes. Though the external layer of his skin remained unscathed, the pain from the hits he received was undeniable, particularly from one that had targeted his ribcage with tremendous force. This particular strike was more severe than the others, likely indicating that the assailant was of a higher caliber, possibly at the formidable third stage of the deva level of cultivation.
The bones along the sides of Armad’s ribcage had sustained complete fractures. However, the central bone, which had borne the brunt of the initial assault, held steadfast. A thick tide of blood surged from his stomach toward his throat, eager to escape, yet Armad forcibly kept his mouth shut, preventing any sign of vulnerability. He understood the psychological warfare at play; if he allowed any blood to escape, it would signal to his attackers that their efforts were not in vain. Armad knew that the key to maintaining an advantage in this confrontation was to project an image of invulnerability, which would sap his assailants’ confidence. If they became aware that their strikes had indeed caused him internal injuries, he knew that securing victory would become substantially more difficult.
In a discreet maneuver, Armad retrieved the energy-boosting pills he had cleverly hidden beneath his tongue before the onset of battle and swallowed them. The pills worked swiftly, repairing the shattered bones within his ribcage and healing his other wounds. Despite the physical recovery, the pain of his injuries persisted, a relentless reminder of the battle’s intensity. Fuelled by this pain, Armad made a silent pledge to reciprocate the agony, ensuring that his opponents would soon share in the suffering he had endured. His resolve strengthened, Armad prepared to turn the tide of the battle, ready to unleash his full power and demonstrate the true extent of his capabilities.
“Kaban Shisu,” Armad intoned decisively, his voice weaving the fabric of a potent teleportation spell. In the blink of an eye, he vanished from his initial position, reappearing stealthily behind what he had calculated to be the weakest of the Devas assailing him. His strategic assessment indicated that this particular Deva was at the first stage of deva-level cultivation—a prime target for a swift takedown. No sooner had Armad materialized than his sword pierced the air, aiming for a lethal strike to the Deva’s back. The attack was swift, a blur of motion executed before his enemies could even grasp the full extent of his movements.
Yet, to Armad’s astonishment, the assault did not culminate as anticipated. His sword, honed for the kill, met an unexpected resistance: upon reaching Deva’s bone, it emitted a clang reminiscent of steel clashing against steel. Confusion seized Armad as he grappled with the implications of this unforeseen development. What eluded his knowledge was that Nura Bayajidda and his companions had strategically removed their White Amulets, which had been masking their true cultivation levels. This act of subterfuge presented Nura with the opportunity to marshal his cultivation prowess and effectively neutralize Armad’s offensive maneuver.
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Armad had underestimated Nura Bayajidda. Despite Nura’s standing as the possessor of the lowest cultivation level among his peers, his unique skillset particularly enhanced the toughness of his physical form, rendering it impervious to being sundered by Armad’s blade. It was a critical oversight on Armad’s part; had he instead directed his surprise attack towards the individual adjacent to Nura Bayajidda—who, despite holding the highest level of cultivation, lacked Nura’s augmentative bodily defenses—he might have found his strike to bear fruit.
Having thwarted Armad’s strike with the unexpected resilience of his skeletal structure, Nura Bayajidda vanished, only to reappear with the same spellcraft behind Armad. In a swift retaliatory act, Nura’s fist came crashing down, a powerful blow that caused the surrounding air to shudder and resonate with the sheer force of the impact. This was no ordinary smash—it was imbued with the full might of Nura’s cultivation, a testament to his considerable power.
Meanwhile, the remaining two members of the Deva trio were far from idle as the clash of titans unfolded. They were acutely aware of the balance of power; despite their superior cultivation levels when compared to Armad, they recognized the risks inherent in solitary combat. Their King's wisdom in dispatching three of them for this mission was becoming increasingly evident. In unity lay their strength, and in that strength, a better assurance of their collective triumph over an adversary as formidable as Armad.
Amid the combat as Nura Bayajidda’s formidable blow was about to make contact with Armad, the air around them suddenly rippled with the threat of more violence. Two surprise attacks were launched from Armad’s periphery, aiming to catch him unawares. However, Armad was not to be outdone; with a swift chant of the incantation ‘Kaban Shisu,’ he harnessed the power of teleportation, vanishing from the immediate danger and materializing at a safe distance.
The trio of adversaries paused, their eyes tracing the space where Armad had been just a moment earlier. They held their tongues, recognizing the superfluity of words in the heat of battle. Actions would speak for them as they silently regrouped, their movements fluid and deliberate, encircling Armad with practiced ease.
Yet their cultivator power was not at its zenith. The use of the White Amulet to mask their cultivation levels had lingering effects; it was a gradual process to reclaim their full strength once the artifact was removed. However, their current state did not betray any sense of urgency or weakness.
In the eye of the storm stood Armad, who with a mere flick of his wrist, coaxed another star into existence upon his blade. This fourth celestial emblem intensified the already palpable pressure exerted on his opponents. The new weight was a force that seemed to press upon their very essence, a gravity they had initially dismissed due to their superior deva ranks but now found increasingly difficult to ignore. It was clear that Armad’s sword carried a formidable enchantment, one that could potentially tip the scales of the battle.
Armad’s mind resonated once again with the ‘Kaban Shisu’ spell, an incantation he now used to reposition himself strategically behind one of his adversaries. His attack was swift, a calculated strike aimed at the left shoulder of the unsuspecting foe. The opponent’s spear, raised in a desperate attempt to parry, was no match for the mystical forces at work. It shattered, splintering into fragments under the sheer force of Armad’s sword, which continued its relentless path through muscle and bone.
As Armad executed this maneuver, Nura Bayajidda and the third combatant, the remaining members of the trio, converged on his position. Their onslaught was coordinated and fierce, threatening to overwhelm Armad with their combined might.
Faced with a split-second decision, Armad weighed his options. If he chose to press his attack, there was a high likelihood of dispatching the deva before him, a significant victory against a seasoned second-stage deva. The kill could shift the momentum in his favor, but it would leave him vulnerable to Nura Bayajidda and the other assailant’s imminent strikes.
Alternatively, Armad could again invoke the safety of ‘Kaban Shisu’ and vanish from the fray, eluding the coordinated attack and preserving his life. But this choice would mean forfeiting the chance to eliminate a potent rival and potentially grant his enemies a strategic reprieve.
Armad bit his lip, a gesture that betrayed neither fear nor hesitation, but rather a steely resolve. He had made a bold, perhaps reckless decision—not to turn and run, but to stand his ground and continue his relentless assault, driving the edge of his blade ever deeper into the flesh of his adversary. Within the span of three heartbeats, Armad’s sword had torn through more than half of the deva’s shoulder. The injured being, a formidable entity at the second stage of deva level, emitted a harrowing scream, a sound that bore the agony of its mortal wound before succumbing to unconsciousness.
Yet for Armad, the incapacitation of his foe was an insufficient victory. Intent on ensuring that the deva would not rise again, he hoisted his bloodstained sword high and brought it down with a decisive, cleaving blow, severing the deva’s head from his body in a single, fluid motion.
A distance away from the grisly scene, one of the kings standing alongside King Konfot's entourage beheld the unfolding carnage and, overcome by a sense of urgency, sought to teleport into the thick of battle. His fellow monarchs, however, swiftly intervened, their hands firmly grasping his royal garb, holding him back. In their minds, Armad was already doomed, a casualty of war, and thus there was no need for their liege to risk his neck. Their reasons for this restraint were numerous and layered with political calculations.
Firstly, they believed that the combined might of Nura Bayajidda’s assault and that of another mysterious combatant would be more than sufficient to seal Armad’s fate. Additionally, they contemplated the ramifications of a king’s direct involvement: if one such as they were to enter the fray, it would set a precedent, compelling others of their rank to also take to the battlefield. With their esteemed positions, they deemed direct intervention beneath them, especially considering that even the commander of the King’s Legion had already plunged into the melee.
Yet, there was more at play than mere pride or protocol. The alliance with the King’s Legion was fragile, a fact not lost on these rulers. They preferred to conserve their strength, anticipating the conflict’s aftermath when the spoils of war would be distributed. They were determined to ensure that they would be at the peak of their power at that crucial moment, to secure a greater portion of the booty. In their eyes, it was they who had made the greatest sacrifices, committing their battalions to the struggle, while the King’s Legion had not played a pivotal role. They planned to insist that the bounty be divided into eleven parts: two shares for the King’s Legion and one for each of the kings. They harbored a deep-seated fear that should a king fall or be gravely wounded in battle, the Legion might take advantage of the situation and claim the fallen monarch’s share. Therefore, they were adamant that the king should remain a spectator, even though the commander of the Legion had already been involved in the battle.
Meanwhile, back in the maelstrom of the battlefield, the kings’ predictions were playing out with a chilling accuracy. As Armad executed his fatal stroke, the combined forces of Nura Bayajidda and the unnamed assailant descended upon him. The moment Armad’s blade separated the head from the body, Bayajidda’s right-hand strike collided with Armad’s flank, a blow potent enough to shatter bone. At the same time, Bayajidda’s left hand, clutching a dagger, thrust towards Armad’s stomach with lethal intent. On the other side, the second deva, emboldened by the sight of his fallen comrade, lunged forward with his sword, its edge honed to a deadly sharpness, aiming to pierce Armad’s unprotected side.
The attackers spared no effort, channeling their full strength into their assault. Fuelled by a mix of vengeance and a stark realization that hesitation could lead to their demise, they fought with a ferocity born of desperation. Their cultivation, once momentarily drained, had now surged back to its zenith, and they unleashed this renewed power without reservation, aiming to end Armad’s life before he could claim any more of their own.