"Let me see how long you can hold on!"
Tang Xiaoyun slashed down with his sword, swiftly cutting through Little Sword God's right hand artery.
Blood spurted out like a water gun, and the excruciating pain drained the color from Little Sword God's face, but the determination in his eyes did not waver in the slightest.
The swordsman's conviction, that's what kept him standing!
He struggled to control his right hand, gripping his sword tightly; no matter how strong the opponent was, he wouldn't let go.
"You bastard!"
Tang Xiaoyun was infuriated, hating this feeling of not being able to make the opponent submit.
The Soft Sword in his hand became like a stormy tempest, focusing attacks on Little Sword God's right arm, slicing it into pieces, severing the tendons completely.
Gradually, Little Sword God found his arm numb, but his fingers still clutched the sword hilt tightly.
It was muscle memory; his body ingrained with his belief.
