This strike was like a thunderbolt, forcing Qian Anning to withdraw his sword to block. In that split second, Chen Yi had already closed in, drawing his saber for a slash.
"Bring it on!"
Qian Anning let out a long howl, the bamboo sword spinning in his palm like a wheel. Green and yellow sword shadows wove a skyward net, each Sword Qi cracking like bamboo joints.
Chen Yi's saber light clashed with the sword net, ringing with a metallic clang. As their figures intertwined, dozens of sword marks appeared on the green tiles below.
Suddenly, Qian Anning's sword momentum changed, like a spring river tide sweeping in. This move, "Xiao Xiang Night Rain," was best at overcoming strength with gentleness, the sword light enveloping like a rain curtain, enough to slice three inches even from iron-hard skin.
Chen Yi's robe instantly split open with several slashes, his figure flickering rapidly, nimbly dodging the rain-like sword light,
"Now it's my turn!"
