The clanging sounds continued incessantly, Anthony, moving swiftly amidst a rain of arrows-like blades, narrowly evading most of the attacks. However, some blades grazed him, slicing his arms and torso, leaving behind bleeding wounds.
This was not the end. Hundred arms swung, as if a hundred people were wielding swords at Anthony, blades attacking from different angles. Their coordination was tight, not interfering with one another, not attempting to block all of Anthony's movements.
No escape now. Anthony raised the Nail Sword, holding it vertical before his chest, trying to shield his neck and heart, hoping to endure this round of attacks.
He knew well he couldn't fall yet; Anthony still needed to command the battlefield, guarding the Gate of the Celestial Kingdom. He couldn't afford to forsake everything and transform into a Demon of hatred.
A gust of chilling wind swept through, causing Anthony to feel strangely calm, and he sighed inwardly.
