"No choice, nothing. Your sword simply isn't sharp enough!"
Yuyan turned her face away too, biting her lip, still sulking.
Zhihan glanced at her and laughed for no reason she could name.
"True enough. How could this one's sword ever match dear Yuyan's for sharpness?"
"If only this one had your talent and your fortune..."
There was envy in her eyes on that second line.
To Yuyan it was infuriating. She could not stand hearing the senior she had once admired, the one called the finest Sword Goddess under heaven, run herself down like that.
"If your talent is poor, how did you make your name across the four seas so young?"
"And however poor your fortune, you still received the Primordial True Inheritance. Is that worse luck than having your whole family wiped out as a child, watching your kin die under heavenly fire?"
"In the end you're the one still living in the past. That's why your Dao of the sword has stalled and rotted this far!"
