"Surrender your life." The anxiety in Bei Mingyuan's heart was fleeting; he quickly calmed down.
He had always been this way, his promises as unshakeable as a mountain. To that end, he would give his all, regardless of the consequences. Victory was certainly welcome. But if he failed, he would have done so with all his might, leaving no room for regret. It would simply mean he couldn't defy the heavens and fate.
As he spoke, the Mystic Rhythm Sword swung out several times in a steady rhythm. The force of each swing was peerless and powerful, kicking up a fierce wind that seemed to tear the very air apart, leaving afterimages of the blade hanging in midair. Yet each pause was abrupt and sharp, with no wasted motion—a display of exquisite control.
