Lost in the Otherworld

The tentacles suddenly exerted force, pulling Gaoyang swiftly towards Old Zhang, moving even faster than Qingling. As they brushed past each other, Gaoyang stretched out his right hand with all his might, aiming to touch Qingling's head, but their bodies were perfectly parallel—just two centimeters too far.

Gaoyang strained to stretch his arm, splaying his fingers wide, but could only watch helplessly as they skimmed past Qingling’s forehead, nose, lips, and chin, never quite making contact.

Is it over?

Gaoyang’s heart sank.

No! His eyes lit up, spotting a glimmer of hope.

Half a second later, the tip of Gaoyang’s middle finger lightly grazed the curve of Qingling’s chest.

Qingling, still struggling, noticed Gaoyang’s peculiar move. She wasn’t angry, just faintly confused: What is he trying to do? A final act of defiance? Or a farewell before death?

[Discovered a unique replicable skill: Level 3 Blade Master. Copy?]

—Copy!

In an instant, Gaoyang felt a surge of energy seep into his body through his fingertip—a mysterious force, almost alive, imbued with the vibrant essence of its owner.

Gaoyang bellowed, “Pass me the sword!”

Qingling didn’t know what Gaoyang intended but instinctively made the right choice. She stopped clawing at the ground and focused her mind on controlling her weapon.

The nearby Tang sword levitated and flew toward Gaoyang.

Gaoyang caught the long blade. The moment his hand gripped the hilt, a flood of familiarity washed over him, as if he had wielded the weapon a thousand times before.

Memories, movements, experience, intuition… countless pieces of information merged into an indescribable force. It felt like a divine being or an ethereal spirit had enveloped him, guiding, controlling, and empowering him.

With a deft twist of his wrist, Gaoyang effortlessly severed the tentacle coiled around his leg.

Now, only two meters separated him from Old Zhang’s body—a perilous yet advantageous position. His eyes had already locked onto the perfect weak point and the ideal angle for his strike.

He pivoted, crouched slightly, and pressed the blade down.

Legs, waist, right arm—all aligned—release!

“Shhh!” The Tang sword sliced upward at an angle, carving through the grotesque lump of flesh.

It wasn’t over yet. Gaoyang’s blade quickly reversed course, striking again. The severed two-thirds of the tumor, still floating mid-air, split into two more pieces.

Everything happened in the blink of an eye.

Blood sprayed instantly, and the wailing came half a second after the strike—but it was cut short, dissolving into the blood rain before it could fully form.

Three seconds passed. The Blade Master skill vanished.

At the same time, the tentacles binding Qingling loosened.

Qingling hesitated briefly, then sprang up, dashed forward, and snatched the Tang sword from Gaoyang’s hands. She slashed the corpse with a dozen more strikes, truly dismembering it, ensuring it would never rise again.

Under the moonlight, Qingling’s jet-black hair dripped with crimson blood, wetly clinging to her cold, pale face and school uniform.

She tilted her head slightly, her chest heaving, standing amidst the chaos of scattered limbs and entrails. In this moment, she resembled an angel of death, descended into hell.

A few seconds later, she slowly turned, her gaze icy and sharp as she looked at Gaoyang.

“Shhh!” In the blink of an eye, the bloodstained Tang sword was at Gaoyang’s throat.

Qingling’s voice was seething with anger. “You’d better explain what just happened.”

“I’m sorry!” Gaoyang raised both hands, hastily apologizing. “I shouldn’t have touched you…”

“Who cares about that?” Qingling’s blade twisted slightly. “Tell me! Why do you have the Blade Master’s skill? Why have you been hiding your strength?”