At this point, Wu Chen wasn't even sure if the creature had begun to fight seriously. Was this its full power—or just the beginning?
The thought unsettled him.
But it made sense.
To an outsider, the very idea of a Level 2 cultivator facing a Level 5 demonic creature should have been impossible. The gap in strength, speed, and endurance was simply too vast. No amount of technique or experience should have been enough to bridge it.
Even a human cultivator of the same level would have stood no chance. Demonic creatures were inherently stronger than divine cultivators; the only advantage humans held was their superior intelligence.
Yet against this special demonic creatures?, unnaturally cunning, ruthlessly adaptive—even that advantage was useless.
That was why Wu Chen now found himself in a deadly predicament.
He had to fight. Not just fight, but execute every move flawlessly, there could be no mistakes. No hesitation, leaving no openings, sustaining no injuries.
A single misstep, The moment he was touched, the fight would be over.
So the battle became a deadly dance.
A constant exchange of movement, instinct, and precision. One misstep, one slip—and the curtain would fall.
The only silver lining, if Wu Chen dared to be optimistic, was the creature's arrogance. It hadn't called on its minions to interfere. For now, it seemed determined to face Wu Chen alone—as if the notion of needing help was beneath it.
That gave the villagers a fighting chance.
While Wu Chen faced the beast in a one-on-one duel, the others were locked in battle with its lesser creatures.
Under normal circumstances, It should have been a fair trade.
This arrangement might have been manageable. If only Wu Chen wasn't barely holding on, he was barely surviving with time slipping away.
And he couldn't afford to drag this out.
Because the longer this dragged on, the more exhausted the villagers would become. And once they faltered, defeat would be inevitable.
So the battle continued it was a whirlwind of chaos and precision.
The creature's strength was monstrous. Every strike it delivered shattering stone whenever it missed it target, and its speed was unnerving for something so massive. It moved like a force of nature—wild, unyielding, and terrifyingly fast.
Wu Chen met its ferocity with unwavering focus.
Each of his movements was deliberate, his every strike aimed to exploit the smallest openings.
He ducked beneath a sweeping claw, rolled past a crushing tail swipe that cratered the earth where he stood, and countered with a swift jab to the creature's flank.
His spearhead found its mark biting into the fur, yet the demon barely seemed to notice. It was relentless, its glowing eyes burning with primal fury, as if his efforts were nothing more than a nuisance.
Wu Chen's breath came in sharp, controlled bursts. His body moved like a flowing current—never still, never rigid—dodging, weaving, countering. He couldn't match the creature in strength or speed. That was impossible.
But he didn't need to.
His ability to predict the creature's movements was his greatest weapon and maybe his only weapon for now.
So he studied the creature relentlessly, He mapped its rhythms, the subtle shifts in its stance, sometimes turning the creature's own momentum against it.
Over time, patterns began to emerge.
Wu Chen's dodges grew sharper. His counters, more precise. He wasn't just surviving anymore—he was learning.
Each blow he landed, while doing little visible damage, was placed with surgical intent—chipping away at the creature's rhythm, exploiting its momentum, and gradually wearing it down.
Still, the creature showed no signs of slowing.
It wasn't enough.
Not yet.
The fight dragged on, the air thick with snarls, the clash of steel, and the harsh rhythm of breath and exertion.
Wu Chen's arms ached, his muscles screamed in protest, and sweat clung to his skin—but he didn't relent. He couldn't.
And finally…the shift came.
The creature's movements, once terrifyingly fluid, grew jagged. Its movements grew less fluid, more erratic. Each strike, once precise and brutal, now carried a hint of frustration. Its roars lost their power, laced with a raw, desperate edge.
It was unraveling.
Earlier, Wu Chen had barely dodged its attacks, pushed to the brink by the beast's overwhelming power—even when it hadn't gone all out.
Even after the Creature got serious, the balance didn't tip completely in its favor. It still held the advantage—but nothing more.
Then Wu Chen began to adapt. His dodges sharpened, his timing refined. His footwork flowed like water, and every movement became more efficient than the last.
Then from mostly dodging he began to counter steadily—probing, testing, and exploiting.
Even though his strikes didn't seem to do much at first, the beast responded differently now. It started guarding more fiercely—especially around its eyes and vitals.
Perhaps it remembered how Wu Chen had dispatched its first minion who he blinded during his first encounter with the demonics in the forest. Or perhaps it realized this fight was no longer as one-sided as it had expected.
Then, at last—Wu Chen weapon struck true.
The spearhead sliced into flesh, not just fur. A thin spray of blood arced into the air.
And for the first time since the start of their battle with the boss Creature, Wu Chen drew blood
something that had seemed impossible before.
His Supreme Intelligence had always been a terrifying weapon whenever a fight dragged. It was as if this ability of his had unraveled the creature's very defense, layer by layer, until it made it vulnerable, the fur that was thick in power stopping his weapon before, now has lost its strength making it almost mundane.
And that is when the table Turned.
So after the first cut then came another cut. And another.
Each passing second, Wu Chen's strikes grew deeper, cleaner—cutting past its hide, drawing more blood. The longer the battle dragged on, the more it favored him.
Yes, it likely meant the villagers were being pushed harder, that their struggle grew more desperate with every moment he spent here.
But it didn't matter.
Because his fight was ending soon.