Mesmerizing Ghost Doctor

Chapter 4750: A Battle for Survival

“You really are naughty,” the man said, narrowing his eyes and smiling. “But since you refuse to talk, it’s alright. I’ll just kill you, and it will all be over. No one will ever know what you’ve been through, and no one will ever know where you died.” No sooner had he finished speaking than he lunged instantly towards Hao’er, intending to end him with a single, decisive blow.

However, just as he was about to strike, Hao’er, who had been on guard the entire time, swiftly dodged and pulled away from the attack.

Seeing this, the man’s eyebrows shot up in surprise. “I didn’t expect that! You’ve already reached the Nascent Soul stage? What a pity.”

He didn’t explicitly state what was a pity, but Hao’er knew precisely what he meant: it was a pity that such a talented child would die at his hands.

The powerful figures hidden in the shadows watched, but none of them revealed themselves. It seemed that not a single one took a mere child seriously. Indeed, Hao’er was just a child. No one would treat him as a genuine threat, and certainly no one would believe he could leave this place alive.

However, when they saw the child extend his hand and a long sword materialize within it, even those in the shadows registered surprise. In the very next moment, spirit energy surged from Hao’er’s small body, and he swung his sword fiercely at the man. They watched as his spirit energy coalesced on the blade, and in an instant, a fierce sword qi erupted from the edge. A whistling sound, accompanied by a palpable murderous aura, instantly targeted the man opposite him. As the sharp sword turned, its sword flower flashed with a cold, deadly light. In that brief instant, even the hidden observers couldn’t help but hold their breath.

“Whoosh! Whoosh!”

The man in front of him saw the fierce sword energy hurtling his way. The sword in the little boy’s hand moved with such incredible speed that only a blur of its shadow could be seen, not the blade itself. He couldn’t help but become instantly alert, taking the situation far more seriously. He responded while deftly dodging, but unexpectedly, when their two swords collided, a metallic clang echoed, accompanied by a fierce whistling sound. The biting coldness emanating from Hao’er’s blade was like a sharp edge, cutting several slits in his robe.

“Clang!”

“Whoosh!”

In the vast space, a large figure and a small figure engaged in a furious battle. The children around them were utterly stunned, not making a sound, pressing themselves against the iron doors, their eyes fixed on the fight. To them, they could only perceive the cold light reflecting off the blades and the flashing movements of the two figures, dazzling their eyes and filling them with shock. That child, only two or three years older than some of them, and about the same age as others, was actually able to fight with the powerful people of this place. He was incredibly strong.

Because of the commotion, the black-robed men who had left earlier returned, but they did not intervene. Instead, they stood not far from the center, silently observing the unfolding spectacle.

“Hiss!”

A gasp escaped his lips as the man was cut on the shoulder by Hao’er’s sword. Unable to hide his shock, he clutched his wound and retreated, his bloodthirsty eyes glaring at the small boy. Hao’er, too, was covered in wounds, his clothes stained red with his own blood.

At this moment, the little boy bore at least ten wounds of varying sizes on his body. Some were minor, merely superficial cuts, but one wound was deep enough to expose bone. Yet, the little boy kept his lips tightly clenched, uttering not a single sound, not even a groan. His expression remained resolute, as if he were prepared to fight to the death.

Though his opponent was undeniably far stronger, he found himself unable to withstand the boy’s seemingly reckless yet persistent attacks. A momentary lapse in concentration had left him with a painful slash on his shoulder, forcing him to retreat swiftly. But the “little devil” kept pressing forward, relentlessly pursuing him, refusing to give an inch.

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