That blade strike... Its elegance was like a willow leaf dancing in the rain, its green so vibrant it was unnerving.
And Ma Sanqian was panicking right now.
Because the "male ghost" before him was too fast, too vicious. And his blade was wreathed in astonishing lightning.
'Wait a second.'
'How can a ghost control lightning?'
'No, that's not right!'
'This isn't a ghost!'
Ma Sanqian snapped out of his panic. He hadn't lived for over fifty years for nothing. He was sure of it now—he'd been ambushed.
But reacting and dodging were two different things.
Ma Sanqian had realized what was happening, but he could no longer get out of the way.
The black longsword descended before his eyes. Crackling with ferocious lightning, it struck his shoulder like a bolt from the heavens.
BOOM!
Ma Sanqian felt a paralyzing numbness spread through him. Arcs of electricity coursed through his body, freezing him in place like a statue.
And then, he heard a cry of surprise.
