The old monster had not expected such an overwhelming transformation.
The sheer number of attacks that poured from Lin Mu's form was terrifying. Swords whirled, bowstring twanged, arrows hissed like falling meteors, and Lin Mu's own magma-clawed fists came at him with brutal directness.
"Good!" the elder roared, slashing Solemn Sentinel in a sweeping arc.
HUALA HUALA HUALA
In response, hundreds of illusory swords burst into existence around him.
They were condensed entirely of his Sword Qi and saturated with his Sword Intent, an endless storm of blades that surrounded him like a fortress. Each spectral sword intercepted Lin Mu's strikes, clashing with arrow after arrow, smashing away magma slashes, blocking the furious twin swords that lunged from the tentacles.
Yet Lin Mu's fists were different.
