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At that order, blades and spears from Baling troops came down on the Red General all at once.
Even a man of iron would be turned into a honeycomb in the face of such an onslaught.
But the instant the first spearpoint touched him, the Red General’s figure vanished.
There was neither a warning nor a blur of motion; he simply vanished.
Every stab and slash that followed struck nothing but air.
Right at the spot where he was, all that remained was a cicada shell no bigger than a pinky finger. A gust of wind caught it and sent it fluttering upward.
It was the substitution technique.
On his very first pass through the stable, the Red General had quietly planted a cicada shell there, and no one had noticed. Had He Lingchuan seen it, he would have smiled in recognition.
Swapping places with the ghost shadow cicada shell put the Red General back inside the stable.
Shao Yingyang swept the scene with his gaze and felt his scalp prickle. An extra shadow now stood in the post station’s stable, blade flashing as it chopped down at the copper talisman plate on the ground.
Shocked, he did not stop to think. He bit the tip of his tongue, pointed a finger toward the stable, and roared, “Suppress!”
A streak of silver-white lightning appeared in midair and crashed down with a mountain’s weight straight toward the top of the Red General’s head.
The bolt lit up half of Wei City. Its force had to be terrifying; lightning was, after all, the righteous law of heaven and earth, said to disperse all evil spirits.
The Red General lifted his left hand and pinched his index and middle fingers together over his head. It looked as if he had seen this exact moment coming.
The raging lightning stopped between his fingers.
The move was casual and effortless.
The lightning still crackled and spat, writhing...
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