Zhou Ping'an had just spun around, gathering strength to swing his sword, ready to strike down.
But he discovered that the brawny bald man before him had sword light that unexpectedly transformed from unparalleled ferocity to a soft drizzle in March.
Gentle, meticulous, and all-pervading.
It seemed to have locked down all possible angles for Zhou to launch his attack.
Moreover, the energy was deeply hidden, as vast as the ocean and abysmal.
"Good sword technique."
Zhou Ping'an brought his sword down with a thunderous roar, the force of it tremendously fierce, as if trying to cleave his opponent in two with the momentum of his spinning descent, leaving no room for retreat.
But in his heart, he knew.
If this sword really were to come crashing down, it would not only fail to penetrate the opponent's sword form but would also be diverted by the opposing force.
And he would be met with a counterattack, a sword coiling around to decapitate him.