Teacher by day, Farmer by passion - Chapter 243

Chapter 243: Divine Combat [2]
Ace dashed forward without hesitation, Little Aoki the giant tyrant bear thundering behind him like a living avalanche.

“Let’s clip those wings first!” Ace shouted, eyes locked on the Bifeng swirling in the sky like a storm of blades.

Little Aoki roared in response, each step shaking the ground, his heavy paws tearing through stone as he leapt after Ace, ready to follow his master into the heart of battle.

Meanwhile, White Fur stood tall on the battlefield, her long tails swaying with restrained irritation as she glared at the grotesque frog leaping toward her with Giyo on its back.

She narrowed her eyes, ears twitching. “Seriously? I get the slimeball?”

The frog croaked loudly, a wad of sticky venom pooling in its throat.

White Fur wrinkled her nose. “Ugh, this is beneath me.”

She opened her mouth, charging a swirling orb of soul force that glowed like a miniature star.

Her eyes flicked coldly at the frog. “Let’s make this quick. I have fur standards to maintain.”

With a snap of her jaws, she unleashed a blinding beam of white-blue energy, the blast ripping across the field like a laser, aimed straight at the frog’s bloated face.

The frog croaked in panic, jumping—too late.

Yet instead of incineration, the frog actually ate the beam.

White Fur blinked.

Then blinked again.

“…Excuse me?”

The frog let out a triumphant bloop, its throat now glowing faintly from the swallowed soul force.

White Fur’s eye twitched. “Oh, I’m feeling insulted.”

She dropped low, her tails fanning out in a radiant arc, shimmering with energy.

The air around her shifted as frost bloomed along the ground beneath her paws.

“You want to chew soul force? Fine. Let’s see how you digest a blizzard.”

Snowflakes materialized midair, sharpening into crystalline shards as a frigid wind surged outward.

White Fur launched forward, blindingly fast, her movements fluid as snow, savage as a storm.

The frog belched glowing slime in defense, but it hissed and cracked on contact with the cold.

White Fur’s voice was a low growl now.

“Welcome to the furball apocalypse.”

Meanwhile up at the sky:

Giyo’s spear clashed against Black Midas’s scaled arms with explosive force. Each strike rang like a gong across the battlefield, sending shockwaves through the air.

Despite his towering draconic form, Midas was being pushed back.

“He’s fast…” Midas muttered, his eyes narrowing.

Giyo grinned, spear spinning with brutal precision. “What’s the matter, mighty dragon? You look a little winded.”

Midas growled, blocking a downward slash that carved a trench into the ground beside him. The force knocked him to one knee.

Giyo didn’t hesitate. He lunged again, this time aiming for Midas’s exposed neck.

“Got you—!”

CLANG!

Midas twisted at the last second, his horned head catching the spear mid-thrust.

Sparks flew. The blow didn’t draw blood, but it did knock Midas sprawling.

“You’re not just brute force, are you…” Giyo muttered, raising his spear again. “But even dragons fall, eventually.”

Midas stood, chest rising heavily, smoke curling from his nostrils. “You think I’m going all out?”

His voice deepened, eyes glowing.

“Let me show you what happens when I stop holding back.”

Black Midas exhaled slowly. The air shimmered as his colossal form shrank, bones twisting and wings folding inward.

In moments, the towering dragon was gone—replaced by a tall man in black and gold robes, his lone horn curling over his right temple.

In his hand, a jade fan unfurled with a snap, glowing faintly with soul force.

Giyo narrowed his eyes. “A fan? You’re mocking me.”

Midas smiled, calm and cold. “This fan has ended more battles than your spear has seen sunrises.”

“Azure Sky Blast!”, with a flick of his wrist, wind howled.

“Dragon dance,” Giyo lunged, his movements sharp, clean, perfected.

His spear danced, slicing through wind and aiming for the man’s throat.

But Midas was gone, gliding sideways like a shadow in silk.

Strike. Parry. Twist. Evade.

Spear and fan clashed again and again, but neither could land a decisive blow.

The battlefield became a blur of movement—grace versus precision.

Giyo’s expression tightened. No matter how many openings he saw, Midas was already gone before the attack landed.

And no matter how fluid Midas’s strikes were, Giyo’s instincts always steered him clear.

It was a stalemate.

“You’re quick,” Giyo said between breaths, “but you can’t hurt me.”

Midas’s fan snapped shut. “I don’t need to hurt you.”

He leaned forward, eyes glowing.

“I just need to outlast you.”

“Oh.. Really?”, Giyo closed his eyes. His chest rose and fell slowly, each breath releasing a faint puff of fire, like a dragon rousing from sleep.

The air thickened. The earth trembled beneath his feet.

Then—

His eyes snapped open, burning crimson. His black hair bleached into a stark, unnatural white, strands flowing upward as if gravity itself feared him.

“…Let’s see how you handle this then,” Giyo muttered, voice deeper, distorted.

“Dragon strike”, he murmured slowly as he vanished in an instant, the ground cracked behind him.

Midas tried to parry, but the sheer force behind Giyo’s strike sent him skidding backward, heels carving trenches in the earth.

Sparks danced from his fan, and his confident smirk faltered for the first time.

Giyo pressed forward like a storm unleashed.

Strike. Fan blocked. Kick. Duck. Sweep. Evade. Strike again.

Each move was faster, heavier, more brutal.

Midas leapt back, a shallow cut blooming across his cheek. He looked at the blood on his glove.

“Oh. So we’re actually trying now.”

Another barrage came, relentless, explosive.

Midas finally growled under his breath, “…A little help here?”

CLANG!

Midas Touch raised his fan to block and Giyo’s spear struck clean.

A shockwave tore through the air as the impact landed square in Midas’s chest, his eyes widening just before his body was flung like a ragdoll.

He spiraled through the air, smashing into the formation wall with such force that it shattered like glass under divine pressure.

CRACK BOOM!

The entire formation trembled and then it suddenly collapsed, runes fizzing out one by one, unable to withstand the force.

“Ahhh—dammit!” Shan Yifeng stumbled, eyes wide as his formation circle shattered beneath his hands. “That wasn’t supposed to break so soon!”

Midas groaned midair, flipping to land hard on his feet, his boots dragging a deep scar into the earth.

He staggered, coughing smoke, the fan in his hand now cracked.

“Alright,” he muttered, wiping blood from his lip. “That actually hurt.”

From above, Giyo descended like a demon king, spear in hand, no mercy in his red eyes.

“Round two,” he growled.