Chapter 167: You Are Not My Match
'This is a fake Grand Elder!'
The moment Zhou Fan reached this conclusion, a fine layer of cold sweat erupted all over him. He subconsciously activated his vision, scanning the area!
After scanning the area and finding nothing, Zhou Fan was puzzled. 'Am I overthinking this? Or am I right, and the real Elder Witch just hasn't shown up?'
Suddenly, Zhou Fan's head snapped up. He looked toward the roof of the building they had just jumped from and instinctively took two steps back!
There, on the rooftop, illuminated by the moonlight, was a figure completely shrouded in a black robe!
Almost instantly, the Li Hen Sword appeared in Zhou Fan's hand with a mere thought. The sudden move startled Fan and He Yi, who retreated several steps and stared at him in confusion.
Li Xing and Li Yue, however, after a brief moment of surprise, followed Zhou Fan's gaze. They looked up and also saw the figure standing on the rooftop.
"Instructor, give up," Xiaobu, who was being held by the fake Grand Elder, urged quietly after seeing Zhou Fan's reaction and glancing at the rooftop. "You're definitely much stronger than you were a year ago, but you're still no match for the Grand Elder!"
Zhou Fan ignored him, his eyes still fixed on the rooftop. The figure was completely shrouded in a black robe, face and all. Even when Zhou Fan activated his clairvoyant vision, he couldn't see through the robe to the person's face. Yet, for some reason, his intuition told him the person was smiling. Smiling at him.
"Daoist Lingling, we'll handle this one. You go deal with the real Grand Elder on the roof!" Zhou Fan said in a low voice to the Lingling Daoist. Although he desperately wanted to fight the real Grand Elder himself, he knew he was no match for him.
"Be careful. This one's tough."
The Lingling Daoist wasted no time. After giving his warning, he sent the fake Grand Elder staggering back with a palm strike. Then, in a few swift leaps, he began running straight up the side of the building toward the roof.
'Holy shit!'
'The old Daoist really was hiding his strength. To think he could do something like that! His feet were like hooks, letting him run up the exterior of the building as if it were level ground!'
With a light flourish of his Li Hen Sword, Zhou Fan charged at the black-robed man—the fake Elder. Fan and He Yi flanked him with perfect coordination, ready to assist.
Li Xing and Li Yue also charged forward, their primary target being Xiaobu, who was in the black-robed man's grasp.
"Watch yourself!" The black-robed man, momentarily flustered by their coordinated attack, warned Xiaobu before releasing him. He then faced the assault from Zhou Fan's trio alone.
The black-robed man had originally thought this would be an easy fight. 'They're just three juniors,' he'd thought. Even with Zhou Fan—the one the Grand Elder had his eye on, the one who had repeatedly foiled their plans—it should have been a walk in the park. At least, it should have been far easier than facing the Lingling Daoist.
He never expected, however, that the longsword in Zhou Fan's hand, which emanated an inky light, would be so vicious. It bristled with killing intent, and after just one exchange, even he found himself at a slight disadvantage.
As a result, the dynamic of the fight began to shift. The black-robed man didn't dare to clash head-on with Zhou Fan, who fought with reckless abandon. With Fan and He Yi constantly providing support from the sides, the black-robed man was soon pushed onto the defensive, completely suppressed by the trio.
"Such a clever scheme, sending a decoy," the Lingling Daoist remarked with a hint of admiration as he reached the rooftop and saw that the figure hadn't fled.
"All warfare is based on deception," the Elder Witch said with a dry, raspy laugh. "My fellow Daoist, how can you be so sure that I am not also a fake?" His voice sounded just as strained as his laugh, as if he were deliberately altering it to hide his true tone.
"After the war a century ago, your Witch Race was left broken and powerless," the Lingling Daoist said, ignoring the Elder Witch's question. He was now certain that this was indeed the mysterious Grand Elder of the Witch Race. "Why not remain quietly where you belong? Why come out and cause so much death and destruction?"
"Greed," the Elder Witch replied, tilting his head back to gaze at the bright moon in the starry sky. "All people are greedy, and I am no exception. This bustling world is so magnificent. Once you've seen such splendor, who would be willing to remain trapped in the deep mountains forever? I wouldn't. And neither would my people." His voice was tinged with both defiance and longing.
"In that case, you leave me no choice!" The Lingling Daoist's eyes sharpened. With a wave of his hand, a Duster appeared. His footwork became a blur, and in an instant, he was before the Elder Witch. He flicked the Duster, and it shot forward like a sharp arrow, aimed straight for the Elder Witch's face.
"Hah. You're no match for me."
Facing the Lingling Daoist's attack, the Elder Witch just smiled faintly. Without any discernible motion, he seemed to drift backward. As his sleeve billowed, a withered hand shot out and clamped down on the Duster.
In the next instant, a strange power surged from the Elder Witch's palm, traveled up the Duster, and flowed directly into the Lingling Daoist's arm and body.
The Lingling Daoist coughed up a mouthful of blood. His grip on the Duster went slack, and he staggered back several steps, his face deathly pale.