In the inal novel, Rising of the Supreme Sword Immortal, when Yang Lie first challenged Ming Yuen, he had no soul-type teiques to rely on.

  At that time, his abilities were limited to physical bat, which made him vulnerable to spiritual entities like the one summoned by Ming Yuen.

  However, after a month orous training in the Mystic Evergreen Forest, he awakened his Sword Aura, advanced his sword teique to the Advaage, and unlocked a formidable soul-type move of his teique.

  As he tio refine his skills, Yang Lie became profit in both soul-type attacks and defenses, making him far more formidable.

  This newfound mastery was the key to his effortless victory over Ming Yuen in the Monthly Dueli, allowing him to overe the spiritual forces that had once been his weakness.

  But now, with Yang Lie still unaware of any soul-type teiques, he was in grave danger. Reon couldn't help but feel a flicker of as he thought about it. Without the skills to ter the evil spirit, Yang Lie was vulnerable.

  Yet, despite the looming threat, Reon reminded himself of ohing—Yang Lie was the Protagonist. He had many Plot Armors—the unspoken shield of fate that seemed to protect him in dire moments.

  Sensing no trace of Death Qi within Ming Yuen, the ominous spirit spoke in a voice that seemed to crawl from the depths of the abyss. "The one who summohout Death Qi shall pay with five years of life force for a normal single and."

  Its eerie whisper hung in the air like a deathly chill, each word ced with malice, as if the very shadows were feeding on the light around them.

  "I will offer you five years of my life force—beat that bastard to death for me," Ming Yuen anded, his finger pointing sharply toward Yang Lie.

  For a cultivator, five years was but a fleeting moment. At the Qi Refining Realm, a practitioner could live for a tury, and in the Qi Solidification Realm, a lifespaeo 250 years.

  Ming Yuen, already at the High Stage of Qi Solidification, still had over two hundred years ahead of him, so the sacrifice seemed trivial.

  The amount of life for evil spirit demands depends on its own strength and the difficulty of the task at hand.

  The more powerful the spirit or the greater the challehe heavier the toll on the summoner's life force. However, spirits only cim this life force after fulfilling the task.

  To and their services without Life Force, a tract must be formed—an agreement where both parties settle on terms.

  Either the summoner aids the spirit in resolving its lingering hatred or unfulfilled regrets, or they iate terms of service though most of the time they wah Qi.

  Iurn, the spirit is bound by the tract, pelled to obey and carry out the summoner's will.

  "The and has been accepted," the evil spirit whispered, its voice chilling and hollow.In the blink of ahe spirit moved, appearing before Yang Lie with terrifying speed.

  He couldn't react, let alone dodge or block, as the spirit unleashed a barrage of punches, eae a blur of dark energy.

  Yang Lie staggered back several steps, his body trembling uhe force, but still standing. Thanks to his Low Stage Foundatioablishment Realm experience card, with one minute of power remaining, he ehe strikes, though each hit tested the limits of his strength.

  Yang Lie steadied himself, shaking off the force of the blows, and swung his sword with precision. His teique, having reached the Intermediate-Stage, was sharp and fwless, cutting through the air toward the evil spirit.

  But no matter how skilled his strikes, they passed through the spirit's form as if it were smoke.

  His heart sank once more as the harsh reality set ie knowing it, the futility of his strikes hit harder now. The physical attacks had no effect.

  The spirit remained pletely unfazed, a shadow immuo the bde's edge. Each swing of his sword was in vain, and the overwhelming truth became painfully clear—he was fighting a being of pure malice, impervious to the very ons that defined his strength.

  "Boy, your efforts are futile," the evil spirit taunted, its voice dripping with pt. "You ot harm me. Surrender now."

  "Damn it," Yang Lie cursed inwardly, frustration boiling within him. "If only I had unlocked the fourth style, the soul-type move that only be mastered after achieving the Advaage of the Cloud Sshing Teique."

  The evil spirit unched another relentless flurry of punches, each blow nding with devastating force. Blood trickled from Yang Lie's nose and mouth.

  With every strike, his breath grew shallower, eaent dragging him closer to the brink of unsciousness.

  He fought to stay on his feet, but the overwhelming pain threateo e him, leaving him gasping for air as darkness began to creep at the edges of his vision.

  "Bastard, this is the sequence of crossing me," Ming Yuen spat from the front, a smug grin spreading across his face.

  "FUCK! Do I really have no choice but to use that item too? I've already lost one of my strorump cards," Yang Lie thought, desperation gnawing at him as he weighed the risks.