Despite the fact that Frank Easton was already attacking with all his might, he saw Jason Allen in front of him lunge forward in an utterly wretched, face-planting motion. Although his shoulder was severely wounded, with at least two or three jin of flesh sliced off and blood spurting out as if being violently squeezed, the direction and angle of his leap happened to be that sliver of hope in a dead end!!!

Although Frank Easton's goal was to sever Jason Allen's hands and feet, in reality, he relied on his incredible speed—it was impossible to cut off all four limbs with a single strike, meaning his actions still had a sequence.

And Jason Allen, by paying the price of injury right from the start to dodge the first blow and hiding in a blind spot, naturally caused the next three strikes to miss.

This sure-hit attack missing was indeed astonishing, but Jason Allen's utterly miserable appearance, with mud and blood mixed together, served as an excellent disguise. So after Frank Easton's failed strike, he only frowned slightly, let out a clear whistle, and attacked again. If an ordinary person had witnessed this, it would truly have seemed as swift as lightning!

At this life-and-death moment, Jason Allen's mind was utterly clear. In his eyes, he saw nothing of the world—only that incomparably sharp sword hidden within the flute, the flute-sword that threatened his life!

More importantly, this time he was prepared. Watching Frank Easton's move closely, he immediately realized that this guy was simply relying on his speed—one trick to dominate the field. In fact, after each burst of power, there was a slight pause to gather strength!

To put it plainly, in terms of sword speed alone, Frank Easton had already reached the level of a nationally selected martial arts candidate.

One of the basic tests for martial arts candidates is the so-called "three-petal plum blossom"—thrusting a spear three times in a single breath, piercing a pine board as thick as a palm, and leaving three holes arranged in a triangle. The speed of the two was not much different.

However, Frank Easton only had this advantage in speed. In Jason Allen's eyes at this moment, his shortcomings were also glaringly obvious—his attack technique and power were far too lacking. All he could do was thrust and slash, merely masked by his incredible speed. As the saying goes, "one beauty covers a hundred flaws"—this was exactly the situation.

***

With a thunderous "crack," the doorpost of the Shen family's haunted house, already rotten, was sliced in half by a flash of sword light and collapsed with a deafening crash. Amidst the swirling dust, a figure rolled out in a sorry state, then slowly got up.

Blood flowed down from his forehead, the warm sensation acutely clear, seeping into the corner of his mouth with a slight numbness and itch.

The taste of blood—slightly cool, with a scorching, maddening tang.

Jason Allen panted. To evade the relentless pursuit of the terrifying enemy before him—elegant as an immortal, yet acting like a madman—he had paid another price: a teacup-sized hole pierced through his thigh, blood bubbling out like a spring. Aside from that, the gash on his head, which would need at least seven or eight stitches, was a minor wound.

Yet his gaze grew ever brighter. At first, he had only hoped to buy another second of life, but now, in this seemingly hopeless and frenzied situation, he had found a sliver of hope!

At the same time, in this slow-motion replay of battle, Jason Allen had also mastered many dodging techniques.

For example, if the enemy's next move was a fierce vertical slash like "Splitting Mount Hua," there would inevitably be a preparatory gesture of raising the sword high! Seeing this, dodging to the side was the right move.

Or, if the enemy intended to thrust forward, there would always be a habit of drawing back the elbow and sword. Spotting this action, he could immediately make the corresponding evasive maneuver.

In fact, in this state, Jason Allen even felt he could dodge bullets. Of course, his physical reflexes couldn't possibly match the speed of a bullet, but to hit him, there had to be the actions of raising the gun, aiming, and pulling the trigger!

Under normal circumstances, even if the naked eye could catch this series of actions, it would all happen in a flash—unless one had received extremely professional training, it would be impossible to react in time.

But in his current state, Jason Allen could clearly and calmly dodge at the very instant the opponent pulled the trigger. While his physical reflexes weren't fast enough to keep up with the bullet after it left the barrel, factoring in the delay from aiming and pulling the trigger, dodging the bullet was no joke.

Therefore, although Jason Allen's strength at this moment, in Frank Easton's eyes, was no more than that of an ant who could be killed with a wave of the hand, under these circumstances, if the ant seized the opportunity, it could still bite an elephant to death!

Jason Allen suddenly began to run, scrambling and crawling out from the collapsed ruins of the house—but he was not fleeing! He was charging!