At the center of the Qi Force, two figures grunted almost simultaneously and shot backward!
One figure retreated more than ten steps, each step leaving a deep footprint in the hard ground, surrounded by a spiderweb of cracks.
His arm trembled slightly, blood seeping from the web of his thumb.
The other figure, however, retreated only a few steps before standing firm.
The dust and smoke gradually settled, and sunlight shone down once more.
Duan Wuya looked down at the hand gripping his saber. The web of his thumb was split open, and blood dripped down the hilt.
'I'm actually injured!'
He raised his head and looked at his opponent.
More than a hundred feet away, Fang Han stood with his sword in hand.
His green robes were slightly dusty and his breathing was a little ragged, but his eyes were as serene as still water and as sharp as a sword.
Beneath his feet were only a few shallow footprints, a far cry from his own wretched state.
