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I raised my sword as I ran toward the Viper and brought it down on him.
Demonic Heaven Arts,
First Form:
Starvation Death.
I was now a starving farmer, and my sword was a hoe. My strike plowed through the air as if it were dry mud, and the space parted until my sword was right above the Viper’s head.
“What…?” The Viper flinched, his one eye filled with shock. He moved his arms to block but quickly stopped and twisted his waist in an attempt to dodge instead.
Like how a farmer never missed with his hoe, my aim was precise, but the Viper pulled back fast enough to create a vacuum in his wake.
The air boomed, sending the snow whirling wildly around us. With the winter weather, every gust of wind blasted us with snowflakes. The extremely dry air clawed the inside of my nostrils.
“… Shit.” The Viper raised his sword. His single eye shone through the snow.
I charged with my sword raised to strike again.
Again, the Viper leaped backward instead of blocking my sword. “The fuck—”
The snow surged.
“Fucking hell…”
Every time I brandished my sword, the Viper dodged—he had no choice but to dodge.
“Fu—”
A whirlwind rose every time.
“Damn, the fuck?”
I stopped in the middle of my charge. Actually, I had to stop when I realized I hadn’t been breathing. The dry air rushed into my throat and charged down my lungs like a waterfall; it felt like all my organs were turned upside down....
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