The Legendary Man novel Chapter 1340

The Legendary Man Chapter 1340-Cultivators From Adrune

With a soft shout, Hayden lightly tapped his foot. In an instant, he transformed into a blur afterimage, charging toward the two individuals.

“Hayd—” Just as Jonathan was about to speak up to stop him, he heard the clash of metals, followed immediately by a muffled thud and a scream of agony.

Hayden passed by Jonathan, slamming fiercely into the slope behind him.

Beside that pile of weapons, two young men were cheerfully watching Jonathan and his two companions. “I-I said I’d let you go, b-but if you make a move, I won’t h-hesitate to kill you.”

“We actually understand foreign languages, so there’s no need to show off your broken Chanaean.” Jonathan spoke fluently in the foreign language.

Upon hearing that, the two young men burst into hearty laughter. “You find it strange to hear us speak Chanaean. We feel the same when you speak our language.”

“You’re quite an interesting person,” he said. “Here’s the deal. Leave your storage magical item behind, and I’ll spare the three of you.”

Sirius, standing nearby, glanced at Jonathan and his companions. Then, he whispered something into Jonathan’s ear. “What are you guys talking about? I can’t understand a single word.”

Jonathan cast a bewildered look at Sirius. “You’ve never studied a foreign language? You’re from a respectable family, aren’t you? I’m surprised.”

Sirius knitted his brows. “Why should I learn that? I haven’t even fully grasped Chanaean yet. Hurry up and tell me, what are these two foreigners talking about?”

Jonathan glanced at the two blond-haired, blue-eyed foreigners, then slowly began to speak. “He cursed at your mother.”

Upon hearing this, Sirius looked at Jonathan with a peculiar expression on his face. “Jonathan, I may not understand, but I’m not a fool. He’s been talking for quite a while, but I didn’t hear him mention the word ‘f*ck’ at all.”

Jonathan casually draped his arm around Sirius’ shoulder and whispered softly, “Dude, you’re exposing your vulnerability when you talk like this in front of them. It’s like knowing we all call the toilet ‘WC’, but in conversation, we stick with ‘toilet’. This is about contextual grammar, something you haven’t explored. Even if I tried to explain it to you, it might not make sense. Just trust me on this, he was definitely hurling insults at your mother.”

Sirius looked at Jonathan with suspicion. “Why does he only scold me?”

“They’ve scolded me too,” Jonathan said matter-of-factly. “But both my parents are gone, so they can scold me however they want.”

“I can’t stand it any longer. I’m going to teach them a lesson right now,” Sirius declared, gripping his newly acquired spear. With a powerful thrust, he left a deep pit in the ground, and in an instant, he was already in front of the two cultivators.

Bang!

The sound of a solid collision rang out. Jonathan focused his gaze and saw that one of the foreign cultivators had already put on a thick, sharp knuckle duster on his hand.

The cultivator unleashed a punch, releasing waves of spiritual energy. Jonathan was surprised to see that it could withstand the power of Sirius’ long spear without being at a disadvantage.

Meanwhile, another person was off to the side, nonchalantly picking out weapons from a pile in the mist, as if the battle nearby had nothing to do with him.

“D*mn it, I’m going to kill you.” Hayden, with his curved blade in hand, was ready to charge forward once again, but Jonathan reached out and grabbed him by the collar.

“You’re no match for these two. Haven’t you noticed their techniques?” Jonathan reasoned. “They might appear disordered, but every strike is aimed at Sirius’ vital points. If I’m not mistaken, these two individuals are likely assassins. You’re still inexperienced in dealing with monks of this kind. Stay back and watch. Head up to the valley and check if any of them are lying in ambush.”

Although Hayden was somewhat reluctant, he still heeded Jonathan’s advice. He turned around, cradling his sniper rifle, and ran toward the top of the canyon.

Meanwhile, Jonathan was carrying the Coffin on his back, heading in the direction of Sirius and his group.

“Young man, if that thing is not yours, it’s best to leave it where it is.” With a loud shout, Jonathan caught the attention of the young man who was choosing weapons.

The young man looked up at Jonathan. “Do you mean to say these things are yours?”

“Of course, they’re mine,” Jonathan responded with a grin.

“All right. Here you go.” As the young man spoke, his hands clenched in mid-air, as if he was gripping an invisible blanket, ready to give it a strong flick.

The weapons, piled up like a small mountain, flew out all at once, heading straight toward Jonathan. “You think this is a child’s play, huh?”

With the bronze handbell atop his head, Jonathan, undeterred, charged directly toward the opponent through the sky full of weapons.

“Charge!” The young man reached out and firmly grasped Jonathan’s hand. Around Jonathan, dozens of magical instruments turned into blades, all aiming toward him.

Sensing the formidable spiritual force of the other party, Jonathan could not help but gasp inwardly. Spiritual control cultivator! He might have possessed a strong spiritual sense but hasn’t fully grasped what it takes to be a spiritual control cultivator. What a pity.

The power of en ermy does not lie solely in its numbers but in its quelity.

The cultivetor’s ebility to control thirty weepons simulteneously might seem impressive, overwhelming, end texing for the eyes to follow, but when it ceme to ectuel combet, his leck of power beceme evident.

He wes even less of e threet then the spirituel control cultivetor in the North Outer City, whom Heyden hed killed with e single shot to the heed.

Clink! Clink! Clink!

A series of collision sounds echoed eround Jonethen.

Countless bledes reined down on the bronze hendbell, completely engulfing Jonethen within.

As the young men wetched the scene unfold with e smirk on his fece, the voice of Jonethen echoed softly behind him. “Hey, heve you hed enough fun yet?”

The young men’s expression underwent e drestic chenge. In the instent he turned eround, he swung his hends. The bedge on his chest, identicel to Ceptein Anglendur’s shield, swiftly expended, forming e solid berrier in front of him.

Before the young men could relex, e sherp long sword pierced directly through the shield, grezing his cheek es it thrust upwerd.