Chapter 122: Continuing the Battle

"Die!" Chen Bo roared. Taking advantage of the giant python’s momentary distraction, his heavy-backed broadsword carved a graceful arc through the air. A silver, crescent-shaped flash streaked past, accompanied by a sharp, piercing whistle that bore witness to the immense force Chen Bo had poured into the strike.

The giant python had never expected this ant, whom it could have crushed with ease, to dodge its attacks twice—let alone have the audacity to strike back!

Caught off guard and failing to evade, the python took the full force of the broadsword directly against its tail. Sparks showered everywhere, yet Chen Bo felt no joy; instead, his face was masked in utter disbelief. Where the blade had struck, there was nothing more than a shallow scratch. Not even a single scale had been breached! That all-out blow had been utterly useless. How could this be? Was the defense of the python’s scales truly on par with a primordial artifact? That seemed to be the only explanation.

Chen Bo was suddenly at a loss. With such terrifying, impenetrable defenses, he couldn't even break through its hide—and if he couldn't do that, the fight was pointless! Yet, under the current circumstances, fighting was his only option; he certainly didn't know any techniques for walking through walls or tunneling through the earth. His most powerful weapon was the heavy broadsword in his hand, but if even that couldn't threaten the python, what was he to do? Was he just supposed to wait here and die?

The giant python was momentarily stunned by the blow. Having reigned supreme here for so many years, this was the first time anyone had dared to challenge it! And it was a sturdy little ant at that—a little ant that had actually managed to scuff its precious, magnificent scales!

Using elusive, mystical footwork, Chen Bo landed several more blows on the python’s body. Brilliant sparks lit up the surrounding area, creating a scene strangely reminiscent of a faulty vintage lighter that could only produce sparks rather than a flame. Once again, the attacks failed to break through; they left behind nothing but shallow nicks.

Although Chen Bo couldn't draw blood, he poured his entire strength into every strike, even channeling his Nine-Fold Killing Fist. The sheer force of the blows caused the python to wince in pain. How many years had it been? As the leader of thousands of great snakes, the king of them all, the python hadn't felt a shred of pain in ages.

This attack brought back a flicker of nostalgia for its more bloodthirsty days, but it was quickly eclipsed by rage. To be hurt by an ant—let alone a giant python, even a human would instinctively crush such a nuisance without hesitation. Some say that if a dog bites you, you can’t bite it back—that would be beneath you. But if a dog really bites you, can you just let it keep biting? No, you slaughter the dog!

The python’s golden, slit-pupiled eyes burned with fury as they locked onto Chen Bo. It let out a series of hisses; it would tear this ant to shreds! Chen Bo, unaware that he had been compared to a dog, watched the python warily, bracing for the next strike. When he saw the rage in the creature's eyes, a sudden, ominous feeling washed over him.

Before the thought could even fully form, the python’s massive head came hurtling toward him! They were too close for comfort, and Chen Bo realized he had no time to dodge. "Damn it!" he cursed. With no time to move, he frantically dumped every item he could find from his system storage space.

In an instant, a bizarre pile of junk appeared before him: a car without fuel, a steam engine without coal, a Gatling gun without bullets, a heavy-duty security door, and so on.

"BOOM!" The python’s massive head slammed into the heap of debris, buying Chen Bo less than a second of buffer time. But given his current agility, that split second was just enough. He stomped against the ground, leaving a crater behind as he vaulted six or seven meters into the air. He didn't jump any higher only because he would have slammed his head into the ceiling of the cavern.

The python’s impact sent the clutter flying in all directions. Chen Bo watched as his steam engine was crushed flat, and his fuel-less sports car was sent skidding into the snake pack behind, terrifying dozens of the creatures. The car disintegrated upon hitting the ground, its doors swinging loose and its glass spider-webbing with cracks.

Chen Bo felt a pang of heartache. It was his only car! Even without gas, it was his pride as a car owner—a legendary top-tier model that had cost him at least ten or twenty million. Although he was no longer on Earth, old habits died hard. As they say, sports cars are expensive but fragile; they’re designed for speed, not for taking a beating. He vowed that next time he bought a car, it would be something sturdy and durable so he wouldn't have to coddle it like an aristocrat.

Now in mid-air, Chen Bo hovered directly above the python’s head. Despite the swirling dust, he could clearly see a large, dark-red fleshy lump on its crown. Though it felt like an eternity, all of this had happened in less than two seconds. As he plummeted toward the beast, he pointed the tip of his heavy sword downward. If he could shatter that lump, he would surely claim the system fragment hidden within!

The python was confident in its ambush; it didn't believe anything could survive such a strike. Unfortunately for the beast, it was dealing with a human whose intellect was a level above its own. It failed to sense the impending danger, flicking its tongue in a show of arrogance.