Despite all of this, Dyon still remained calm. There were a few reasons for this.
For one, without a calm mind, all chances of victory would be thrown out. Secondly, he didn’t believe that there would be a trial that was impossible to pass, or else this Tower would be completely useless. The last point was the most poignant to him: He didn’t believe that this Tower could perfectly replicate the prowess of the Dragon King, at most, it could be imitated.
Although Dyon’s body had the Dragon King on it, it was currently not on his wrist. This meant that the trials purposefully did not want him to use it. At this point, one might think that the trials might have directly given the Dragon King to this clone of his for the sake of the trial, after all, if the Dragon King wasn’t with Dyon, then where could it be?
However, Dyon knew better than to worry about this. In the history of the Dragon King, there had only been one person to subdue him: and that was himself.
The reason Dyon was so arrogant so as to believe that this clone could never fully replicate him was namely because of the Dragon King. Although the replica the clone was using was eerily close to the original, because of Dyon’s soul connection with the Dragon King, he could tell that this wasn’t really him. That meant that the clone wasn’t able to replicate Dyon’s ability to make weapons submit to him, which also meant this clone wasn’t perfect.
All of this instilled confidence within Dyon. He wasn’t the type of person to be blindly arrogant. Rather, he was just a person who had the utmost confidence in himself and his own analysis of things. No matter how many millions of years this Tower had been created for, it was still too green to affect his psyche.
Brandishing broad sword, Dyon surprised the clone by making the first move.
His first step was quick and decisive, leaving a vortex of wind where his feet once lay. His sword trailed behind him, picking up momentum and strength as his torso flexed with unbridled power.
Dyon’s arms swung forward, his skin reddening. With every flash step, another level of Demon Emperor’s Will was crossed. By the time Dyon broad sword was only an inch from smashing into the clone, even Dyon’s six golden wings had erupted from his back, causing the lingering energy Dyon had yet to be absorbed in an instant, re-establishing his cultivation at the lower celestial level.
This all occurred in the blink of an eye, and before the clone could even react, Dyon’s sword had reached him.
BOOM!
Dyon’s broad sword met the rod of the clone’s scythe. However… The clone barely took a half a step back before stabilizing itself. As for Dyon, severe pain racked his arms to the point where he assumed his bones would erupt into dust if even the slightest bit more power was infused into them.
However, Dyon didn’t seem too surprised with the result. Even after going all out, the result was a mere half a step back. A normal person might feel despair at this point, and maybe Dyon would be more sane if he did as well. But, he simply didn’t.
The clone chuckled, “I did all that, even letting my guard down for you, and that’s the best result you could achieve? Isn’t that a bit too sad?”
A dense black qi burst forward from the scythe’s shaft, corroding Dyon’s energy and blackening his skin.
Without waiting for Dyon to respond, the clone swung, blasting him backward.
A flurry of exchanges erupted, if it could even be called that. By the clone’s second swing, Dyon was forced into using his broad sword as a shield, hiding behind it as he tried to deflect the power of the blows
“Is this how you fight?” The clone’s mocking laughter rang through Dyon ears as he pressed him back, again and again, “Let me tell you a secret. I’m quite disgusted to be impersonating you right now.
“Your fighting style is so crude. All of your techniques are power boosters, yet you have no finesse or skills to properly apply that power, how are you any different from a madly swinging barbarian?
“Oh, how pitiful. Before you could learn anything from your master, she died. And then the last sliver of her consciousness wasted its last bits of energy trying to stop you from turning into a devil.”
The seemingly furious swings of Dyon’s clone actually had quite a playful air to them, as though he didn’t care to end this battle as quickly as possible.
“So, it seems this is quite a pattern for you, isn’t it? Getting pissed off? Throwing a tantrum? You have the emotional IQ of a 16-year-old girl, difference being, at least they know how to vent and get over it. You’re pathetic.”
The rain of corroding swiped rained down on Dyon’s broad sword shield. He could tell that if he hadn’t managed to blast through the gold layer of the weapon is his hand, it would have long since shattered completely.
“Oh.” The clone suddenly spoke as though it had only just remembered something. But, Considering the devious glint in his eye said different. “I almost forgot to tell you. You probably don’t want to accidentally touch the black fog around this arena. I mean, unless you want to leave out the emo thoughts in your head and die.”
Before the words had even been fully processed by Dyon, the clone cocked back its scythe, evilly eying Dyon’s back foot that was already near the edge of arena, before swinging forward with more force than he had during any of their exchanges.