Hong Xin sneered, casually sidestepping with his hands behind his back. The wings on his back fluttered, keeping his body agile and out of his opponent's reach.
Zhi Le was incredibly fast. With his Thunder Sword in hand, he launched into a relentless flurry of slashes, his movements blurring into afterimages as lightning wove itself into a net.
At first, Hong Xin was relaxed, intending to toy with Zhi Le. He planned to wait until his opponent's Spiritual Power ran out, then cripple him with a single, stylish move and leave his personal mark.
But Zhi Le's speed only increased, forcing Hong Xin into a sorry state just by dodging. Every now and then, a few feathers would detach from his wings and drift down onto the fighting stage.
A warrior can be killed, but not humiliated. To Hong Xin, losing even a single feather was an insult.
He ground his teeth. "You've managed to piss me off!" With that, he stopped dodging and went on the offensive.
