As soon as the two appeared, they launched a sharp and immediate assault. Especially Isabella, who felt she had let down the witch-spirit in front of her beloved, and thus had to regain her dignity. Sarah维尔's sharp dagger flashed swiftly, each strike aimed precisely at the witch-spirit's vital points. Of course, Qin Shao wouldn't simply stand by, waiting for his moment—though his attacks came slightly less frequently than the beautiful instructor's, and he employed more feints. As a result, the witch-spirit had to divert part of his attention to Qin Shao, thereby relieving the pressure on the instructor. Their coordination was nearly flawless. The witch-spirit quickly lost the upper hand; despite holding his bone staff, he never managed to cast a spell. *Plump!* He was struck squarely by Isabella and collapsed heavily to the ground. Since the match began, Wuling had never suffered such a defeat—he shouted and leaped up, charging desperately toward the beautiful instructor. Crack… Lightning struck the back of his unprepared body, and under the onslaught of the electric arcs, his agility temporarily dropped a notch. The instructor seized the opportunity and kicked him down again. "Two against one—your Chinese people truly are generous," he grumbled as he rose. The instructor retorted, "Sorry, you've got it wrong—I'm not Chinese. Two against one? What's the issue? If you're not up to the task, don't just make excuses!" "I've killed you," Wuling had said this many times over the course of the match—he himself couldn't recall exactly how many times. A few minutes later, his situation grew even more dire, leaving him only with defensive capabilities. Thud… Whoosh… Pfft… As soon as Wuling was kicked down, a flying sword descended from the sky, pressing him firmly to the ground. The fate of this man was remarkably similar to that of his undead companion—though he himself wasn't aware of it. Both of them pressed down on his shoulder at the same time, and Qin Feng said, "If you don't want to follow in the footsteps of your companion, then cooperate willingly. Otherwise, you're dead." "Hmph! People from our Wulín Sect aren't afraid of threats," he shouted, straining his voice. "Ah, really? Then let me add a few more ingredients to the mix." Isabel raised her foot and stomped down hard, snapping the man's clavicle instantly. She then continued, "If you don't choose to cooperate, I'll break every single bone in your body. Don't hesitate—let's find out!" The Wulín Sect member began to laugh wildly. "Is it really that big a deal to break bones? What's so impressive about that? Then come on—let me quote a saying from the Chinese: 'I'll be a fine man again in twenty years!'” "Please, our Yánwang here won't be taking you to the afterlife." "Qin Dashi interrupted him, saying, 'Maybe you're not afraid of death, but I have a method that will make your life a living hell. Would you like to give it a try?' 'Go ahead,' Wu Ling responded with remarkable composure. 'As you wish,' he said, drawing out the dagger, Huo Yin, and waving it in front of Wu Ling. Wu Ling's face immediately grew pale, stammering, 'This... this is Huo Yin, isn't it?' 'You're quite perceptive,' Qin Dashi smiled, with a deep, thoughtful expression. 'In fact, your companion died at the hands of this very dagger. As for you, I won't let you die so swiftly. I plan to start by cutting off your ten fingers, then your toes—well, perhaps I'll skip that and cut off your legs first, then your arms, until you're left just a torso, a mere staff!' Wu Ling was trembling all over, yet still held his ground, saying firmly, 'Kill me, then. I won't say a word!' 'Sha sha,' Qin Dashi raised the dagger, 'open his right hand.' Isabella picked up a flat brick and struck it hard against the witch-spirit's right hand. In pain, the spirit involuntarily opened its palm. Crack... Three fingers were severed at once, and the wounds immediately turned a dark gray, yet stopped short at the base of the fingers. "Firefall has such an effect," Isabella exclaimed, surprised. "When my Saravil pierced it, it only left a non-bloody wound—so the weapon itself must be more potent!" Qin, the young lord, frowned. "I only just found out! In terms of toxicity, how could my Firefall possibly match your Saravil? By the way, where did you get that brick? I thought such a powerful weapon would always be kept on hand!" "Serious? I just picked it up off the ground—who carries bricks around when they're not in trouble?" The beautiful instructor then struck again, this time reducing the witch-spirit to a blackened half-finger that instantly turned to dust. As the spirit groaned heavily, Qin's dagger descended for the second time. This time, the precision was off. Qin was left red-faced, not because the cut missed entirely, but because it was too severe—half of Wu Ling's palm was severed. "Ah!" He could no longer contain himself and cried out in a high-pitched, painful voice. As before, the wound quickly turned black and spread toward the wrist, eventually turning the entire wrist a color resembling limestone. This time, Isabella adopted a more gentle approach—she didn’t use the brick again, but simply blew a breath over the area. The already-stiffened parts easily turned into ashes and scattered around. "Chinaman, I beg of you—kill me!" he gasped, his voice strained. "Serious? You decide, or I do?" Qin glanced at him, scoffed, "Don’t panic. Just get ready to be the human pole—actually, it’s not that bad. It’s just petrification, isn’t it?" Of course. Who knows how much pain they feel until the blade actually strikes them? He was standing there, speaking without having to bear the weight of the injury himself. The beautiful instructor gestured with her hands while saying, "Xiao Feng, based on my assessment, all you need to do is make the cut here—his entire arm will turn to stone!" "Really? How are you so certain? Did I make a mistake in the calculation?" Qin, the young nobleman, expressed disagreement, saying, "To be safe, I believe the cut should be made at the junction between the upper and lower arm—only then will the entire arm turn to stone." "I won't make a mistake," the beautiful instructor insisted. "Try it yourself." "Alright, let's give it a go," he replied, plunging his blade precisely where Isabella had indicated. As the blade entered the flesh, the process of petrification began immediately—yet it stopped once it reached the mid-upper arm. "Alright," said the beautiful instructor, "I was wrong. Fortunately, he still has another arm, so you can now verify whether my original assessment was correct or not." Qin Feng smiled, "In the end, it will definitely be my view that proves right. Right now, I'm going to demonstrate it to you!" "The spirit-witch was terribly tortured, and now even her other arm was in danger. Panicking, she said, 'I'm willing to cooperate. Please don't harm me any further. Ask me anything you like—I'll answer!' She sheathed her dagger and smiled, saying, 'We should have chosen cooperation long ago. Now, you've reduced me to a one-armed invalid. Still, better to live than die. My question is the same as before: who sent you to kill me?"