?Phone reading Qin Feng and Isabella stood one after another, with the Death Angel in between. E-book "You weren't exaggerating—your strength has indeed improved significantly," he said coldly, slowly drawing his floral sword from his waist. The blade shimmered with a deep, ethereal blue glow—clearly poisoned. After their previous two encounters, his floral sword had not carried poison. "What have you observed, then? For instance, my current rank," Isabella replied, speaking in diplomatic terms. The Death Angel raised an eyebrow. "Those of higher rank naturally perceive the capabilities of those below. You don't think you're superior to me, do you? Really believe I haven't noticed? At present, you possess the strength of a Baron at his peak—but even then, you still fall short when compared to my own Viscount-level prowess." "The beautiful officer smiled, 'Ah, so it's a Marquis at your peak! I truly had no idea where I stood. Thank you. By the way, why is your sword poisoned? Are you afraid of us?' 'Cut the chatter,' he replied, 'and fight if you must. Doesn't your dagger have poison too?' Only then did he realize he'd been outmaneuvered. If only he'd kept his silence and let her guess. 'As you wish,' Qin Feng thought, and with a swift motion, his flying sword shot forward, aiming straight for the Death Angel's throat. 'Overconfident,' the Death Angel countered, launching a graceful arc of his sword to deflect the flying blade, then focusing his main strength on Isabella. He believed, relatively speaking, that Isabella posed a greater threat than Qin Feng—blood elves possessed a powerful self-healing ability, making them formidable fighters. Unless it was a decisive, one-hit kill, no one could guarantee that a Count wouldn't fall to a Marquis. Yet, his assessment proved incorrect." Qin Shao took the lead, while Isabella merely moved around the perimeter, launching occasional attacks—always at the very first contact and then immediately retreating, never allowing the opponent to press too hard. Qin's attacks were particularly sharp, combining flying swords, spells, and incantations in rapid succession. With Death Angel diverting part of his attention to the beautiful instructor, Qin soon found himself overwhelmed. "Ice spear—die!" Qin Feng shouted, but instead of the ice spear, a fire dragon of five to six meters in length surged forth, consuming a lock of Death Angel's hair. "Fire dragon—die!" This time, Death Angel had learned from his earlier missteps and lowered his head to evade. Yet what arrived was a lightning bolt that struck precisely at his back of the head. After being outmaneuvered twice in a row, he felt deeply embarrassed, shouting, "Hateful Chinese! What's the point of feinting and striking elsewhere? Show me your strength and fight me directly!" "Dead bat, I've been fighting you head-on!" Qin Daxiao replied. "I've even managed to outmaneuver you with feints—do you really think I'm not capable? The fire dragon's coming again!" Subconsciously, the Death Angel stepped aside, only to be swept off his feet by the charging fire dragon, whose flames reduced his hair to ashes. With his shifting tactics, Qin Daxiao had mastered the art of illusion and deception. "Phew," the Death Angel wheezed, flapping his wings furiously, determined to charge straight at Qin Feng, no matter the cost—willing to go down with him if it meant securing a victory at all costs. Then—*thud*— Mid-flight, he was struck from above by Isabella's diving attack, his body collapsing like a kite with its string severed, landing heavily on the ground and creating a deep crater. Only then did he realize there was another opponent in the fight. He pushed himself up from the crater, gasping for breath, having taken consecutive setbacks. It was clear he needed to rethink his strategy. Before coming here, he had still looked down upon the furious angel, mocking him for his lack of ability, saying he could only manage to escape when Qin Feng and Isabella took him down. Now, he truly understood how difficult it was to overcome these two who worked so well together. "Count transformation!" he roared, his muscles crackling with sound. Qin Feng in the sky blinked in surprise, "Sasha's wife, what's going on now?" "By sacrificing a portion of one's life force to gain a temporary boost in strength, this is a unique skill among noble-level vampires." She explained. Below, the death angel grew one-third taller, his membranous wings significantly enlarged, and a layer of white energy shimmered over his floral sword. The tip of the sword now pulsed with a lance of light, resembling a snake's tongue. "Still following the original plan—I'll hold you in the front while you launch a surprise attack." "He said solemnly, 'It seems the enemy has become harder to deal with. We must eliminate him now, or face trouble later!' 'No problem,' the beautiful instructor rushed toward the Death Angel's flank. Qin Feng charged straight ahead. With a mere gesture of his hands, a single infantry anti-tank missile launcher materialized in the air. After swiftly locking onto his target, he pressed the launch button without hesitation. Sssss— The missile trailed a long flame, hurtling forward at high speed. The Death Angel swung his sword, which cleaved him in two—though the missile still exploded, its destructive power was significantly reduced, inflicting no actual injury. 'Chinese youngster,' he declared, 'having sacrificed my very life force, how could I possibly be harmed by mere human weaponry? Take your life!' He launched his floral sword and flapped his wings, advancing in a rhythmic, alternating motion. Clang— The flying sword collided with the floral sword, sending the latter flying. Qin Feng felt a powerful shock in his chest, sustaining internal injuries." The most immediate consequence was that his mobility was restricted, and his movements no longer as swift as before. As the massive body of the Death Angel closed in, his heart plummeted to his throat, and all his hope rested upon his spiritual shield. Whether or not the shield could withstand the impact remained entirely uncertain. If facing someone less powerful than himself, the chances were good—but he was now confronting a clearly superior opponent. The gust of wind generated by the Death Angel’s immense form had already brushed against Qin Feng’s face, cutting like a blade. Just as it seemed he would be struck, the scene appeared to suddenly freeze. A white figure leapt high from behind the Death Angel, and upon turning, a dagger was firmly embedded in the Angel’s head. Isabella seized the opportunity to strike, driving the dagger through the Death Angel’s cranial cavity. The leaping figure then descended gracefully, stepping elegantly onto the Angel’s shoulders, and the two began their rapid descent together. Puff... The two legs of the Death Angel were completely buried in the earth. Isabella lifted her other leg and stepped down onto the hilt of the dagger, then her foot wavered slightly. Inside the Death Angel's skull, the sharp dagger had mashed everything into a pulp. Qin Feng exhaled in relief, feeling as though he had narrowly escaped. Fortunately, Sasha's wife had arrived in time; otherwise, he would have sustained serious injuries.