?Reading on mobile phone. Eighty Electronic Books (txt02.com). They could barely be said to have succeeded—more accurately, their strategy was to divide and conquer. Ever since, Wuling has been under Isabella's close watch. They believe that in order to defeat Qin Feng, they must first secure her. Of course, a safer approach would be to divert her attention, then, once Qin Feng is eliminated, decide whether to kill or spare her—by then, her fate would no longer matter. Isabella realized she had been outmaneuvered, yet she was not worried. With Qin Feng's current capabilities, it wasn't something anyone could simply say "kill" and have done. Moreover, even if there were real danger, wouldn't he simply be able to fight his way out? In the matter of escaping, Qin, the young lord, outperformed many others. She stared at the person across from her for several seconds, then said, "I'll ask you one final time—what is your true identity? Who has sent you? If you're willing to reveal it, I'll consider sparing your life!" "Chatter, this is the funniest joke I've ever heard in my life," the Wushen laughed, his laughter now even more strained. "Since you're so eager to know, I'll tell you—I'm a Wushen priest. Even if you find out, what then? Don't think because you're of bloodline nobility that you're any better. Countless bloodline members have fallen at the hands of the Wushen Order!" The beautiful instructor's face grew stern. On the European continent, the bloodline, the werewolves, and the Wushen were known as the three great ethnic groups, frequently clashing with one another and causing several bloody conflicts. While the werewolves were no match for the bloodline, the Wushen held certain advantages over them, yet the werewolves could also counterbalance the Wushen, resulting in a balanced trinity where none could completely eliminate the others. The werewolves were constantly pursued and defeated by the bloodline, living a sadly persistent life; the bloodline often suffered covert assassinations by the Wushen, with no effective means of defense; and the werewolves regularly used the Wushen's heads as footballs, playing with great delight Isabella flicked her wrist, and the dagger returned of its own accord. Already satisfied with having identified her opponent, she felt content. Seeing Isabella draw her weapon, the other smiled: "Dre, since you've decided to meet your end, why should I hold back? Allow me to share one more secret—you will be the fourth vampire to fall at my hands; the previous three were all men!" Isabella countered with, "Then I'll tell you a secret too—you will be the first spirit to die at my hands. I may not know exactly how many more will follow, but I can assure you: you will be the one whose laughter is the most unpleasant!" "Stinking vampire—go die!" The spirit suddenly spun in place, and then emitted a series of sharp, rushing sounds. Under the moonlight, Isabella watched as a cascade of silver glimmers shot out from the spirit's body. She lifted the hem of her coat and began to wave it, and countless fine needles struck the fabric. Soon, the white coat shimmered with a silvery sheen. Indeed, they were flying needles—fine as human hair. In such numbers, they were truly pervasive. Fortunately, the beautiful instructor had anticipated this, allowing her to respond calmly. Currently, her concern was whether Qin Feng could evade this dense barrage of needles. Thirty-some kilometers away, Qin, the young nobleman, stood in the darkness and declared, "Your flying needles have done nothing at all for me. I'd like to know just how many you've hidden within yourself. Come now—why be so formal and keep them concealed?" During the previous volley, he had made no attempt to dodge—merely guiding the needles into his meditation ring. The witch, Wu Ling, found this hard to accept, questioning how the target had managed to remove all the needles. "Since you wish to see, then so be it," Wu Ling stepped forward with her right foot and spun in place, launching a fresh wave of needles toward Qin Feng. During the flight, several insects were instantly pierced by the flying needles, completely unaware of what had happened. They continued flying forward for a while before finally dropping to the ground. Qin Dashi remained standing still, just as he had before, and only when the needles approached did he gently collect them into his talisman. Wuli stopped his rotation. This time, he launched twice as many needles as before, yet he observed that Qin Feng remained unharmed. "How exactly did you manage that?" he couldn't help asking. "Hmph, I haven't even asked you a question yet—how dare you ask me first?" Qin Dashi said with a cheerful smile. "If you'd like me to answer your question, you should at least answer me one first!" Wuli spoke seriously. "Who exactly are you?" Qin Feng asked. Wuli lifted his hat, first revealing a smooth, bald scalp, then showing a face adorned with strange tattoos that extended from his forehead all the way down to his neck. He spoke up: "I am a Wiccan from Europe. That's my answer. Now it's your turn!" Qin Feng shrugged and scoffed, "Wiccans? I've never heard of them. I only know the vampires and the werewolves. I'm sure you don't have the same reputation as the werewolves, do you?" "Who says so?" the Wiccan roared. The Wiccans have always felt inferior to the werewolves, ever since centuries ago—this fact has made them feel humbled, and they've always considered the werewolves their greatest threat. As someone who values his dignity, he couldn't help but be furious when hearing such remarks. "I guessed," Qin Shao said, shrugging again, as he continued, "Now I'll answer your question. I'm a Daoist cultivator, so I can make your flying needles vanish. Therefore, these useless things—you might as well keep them!" The Wiccan coldly remarked, "No wonder! The Daoist cultivators of China!" "Then let's continue. A Wiccan who can't stand up to the werewolves." Qin Feng knew how much the werewolves The Wuzheng indeed grew furious. From behind, he drew a staff resembling bone, bent his knees and powerfully kicked the ground, propelling his body like a cannonball straight toward them. The tip of the staff was sharp, glowing with a pale blue light. Qin Dashi remained calm, extending his hand so that his flying sword rose into the sky, then swiftly dove downward, aiming directly at the Wuzheng's head. This maneuver—attacking where the opponent is most vulnerable—might inflict some damage upon him, but at the same time, it would deliver a more severe blow to the Wuzheng. Indeed, the Wuzheng shifted from offense to defense, rotating his body halfway while driving the staff down toward the sword. A tremendous force transmitted through the staff to his hands, only then did he realize the true strength of a cultivator. Qin Feng smiled. The female instructor had been right—those who overly emphasize speed often lack strength, and this very moment had proven it. I just wonder whether Wuli can withstand attacks like fire dragons, ice spikes, and lightning, and what effects will manifest under magical assaults.