Emily Carter snorted, formed a hand seal, and a layer of red shield appeared around her body. With several bangs, a few ice beads fell to the ground.

Using a spiritual shield to block the attack, Emily Carter showed a trace of a cold smile on her face and let out a sigh of relief. From the previous attack, she had already deduced that her opponent’s magical power was very weak, only at the early stage of the Spirit Movement realm.

After launching an ice bullet attack with a water-element spell, William Clark didn’t pause at all. He turned and left immediately. The gap in strength between the two was huge; he had no chance of winning in a direct confrontation.

He cast a wind-element “Light Body Technique” on himself, and in just a few seconds, he had run nearly a hundred meters. Moreover, William Clark didn’t run in a straight line—doing so would make it easy to be caught. He made several turns, using his familiarity with the terrain to delay as much as possible. Even if the other party could use divine sense to track him, unfamiliarity with the roads would still cost her a lot of effort to find him.

After running a certain distance, William Clark suddenly stopped, didn’t continue to flee, but instead looked around, then crouched down and started feeling around on the ground.

Undoubtedly, this action was very strange and puzzling. Emily Carter was about to catch up, yet William Clark was lingering here.

But he clearly had a purpose in doing so, because after carefully searching for a moment: “Still here.” William Clark muttered softly, then his furrowed brow relaxed, replaced by a calm expression.

Footsteps reached his ears—Emily Carter had already caught up nearby. William Clark stood up, his face showing panic and distress… but this time, it was all an act.

“Trying to run?” A charming voice came over, laced with malice and mockery. She glanced at William Clark’s clothing—sure enough, he was a disciple of the same sect. But this junior’s cultivation was far too weak, only at the second layer of the Spirit Movement stage. After seeing William Clark’s level clearly, Emily Carter’s expression instantly relaxed. Killing someone like this to silence him would take no effort at all.

Seeing the contempt in her eyes, William Clark was secretly pleased rather than angry. If the opponent underestimated him, she would let her guard down, increasing the chances of his plan succeeding. Of course, on the surface, he didn’t show any of this, still putting on a worried and anxious look: “Senior sister, p-please… don’t kill me!”

Stammering in his plea for mercy, paired with a panicked expression, William Clark’s acting was flawless. However, he quietly shifted two steps to the left.

“Hmph, you saw my secret and still want to live?”

Emily Carter could definitely be described as cold-hearted as a snake or scorpion. She was capable of killing her master for treasure, so how could she show mercy to a fellow disciple she’d never met before? With a flick of her left hand, a small sword about an inch long was summoned. It grew rapidly in the wind, and in an instant was several meters long, radiating dazzling sword light as it flew toward William Clark.

A spirit weapon—William Clark’s expression immediately became extremely serious.

So-called spirit weapons are simplified versions of magical treasures, designed for use by low-level cultivators. But don’t underestimate their power; while they can’t move mountains and seas, they still possess great abilities—flying, burrowing, and more, all quite marvelous.

When a cultivator reaches the fourth layer of the Spirit Movement stage, they can theoretically control spirit weapons. But that’s only in theory. The reason is simple: although spirit weapons are far inferior to magical treasures, they are still very precious. Generally, only Foundation Establishment cultivators might own one. For newcomers at the Spirit Movement stage, unless they inherited one from an ancestor or were gifted one by a teacher due to exceptional talent, it’s almost impossible to possess a spirit weapon.

Emily Carter was ruthless in her attack. Even though she saw that William Clark’s cultivation was weak, she still used a killing move right away, summoning her spirit weapon!

Chapter Eight: A Battle of Wits, Not Strength

A strike to kill!

William Clark’s expression darkened. The opponent’s ruthlessness exceeded his expectations…

He gritted his teeth, didn’t dodge, but instead stepped back.

Whoosh—the flying sword missed, striking the mountain wall behind. Amidst a rumbling sound, countless rocks tumbled down. Emily Carter was utterly shocked. She never dreamed that a rookie at the early Spirit Movement stage could dodge her attack. What was even stranger was that William Clark didn’t dodge in the usual way; at the very instant the flying sword was about to hit him, he suddenly sank into the ground. What was going on?

Emily Carter was both angry and astonished. She couldn’t help but walk forward to investigate. When she took her third step—snap!—as if triggering some mechanism, a large net fell from above, trapping her inside.

The incident happened so suddenly that Emily Carter was taken aback. She quickly formed a hand seal, trying to break free from the fishing net. But at that moment, an ice bullet shot out from the spot where William Clark had just sunk into the ground, accurately hitting a rope tied to a big tree.

The rope snapped, and with the force of the rebound, a bamboo pole as thick as a bowl, sharpened at both ends, flew straight toward Emily Carter.

“No—”

Emily Carter was terrified, her once venomous voice now filled with fear. What followed was a miserable scream. Trapped by the net, there was nowhere to hide. The bamboo pierced her chest. Even in death, Emily Carter couldn’t understand how she ended up dying here so inexplicably.

With eyes full of unwillingness, still clutching the treasure she had killed her master to obtain, Emily Carter’s soul departed for the underworld. Two minutes later, William Clark crawled out of the pit in the ground. Looking at Emily Carter’s corpse, he let out a sigh of relief—danger, that’s the only word for it.

If not for careful planning, the one lying on the ground now would have been himself.