Su Ling fought like a woman possessed.
Her sword — Moonpetal — moved in arcs of golden light, each swing carrying the weight of her entire cultivation base. She was fast. Faster than any of them expected. The ancestor's qi had done more than break her bottleneck — it had refined her meridians, compressed her spiritual sea, sharpened her spiritual perception to a razor's edge.
But four against one was four against one.
Zhao Kuang's broadsword came from the left — a massive, overhead swing that carried the force of a falling mountain. Su Ling raised Moonpetal and blocked. The impact drove her into the ground, her feet cracking the stone, her arms shaking.
CLANG!
"You're strong!" Zhao Kuang shouted, his yellow grin splitting his scarred face. "But I can kill you before you kill me!"
"Try!" Su Ling spat, and kicked him in the chest, sending him staggering backward.
