Li Minghu gripped his sword with both hands, his center of gravity sinking slightly.
The broken sword tip pointed diagonally, his body seemingly frozen in place, yet tensed like a spring coiled to its limit.
His eyes remained unblinking, even his trembling eyelashes appeared completely frozen, with only Yan Yu's figure reflected in his pupils.
Yan Yu pondered briefly, then stretched out his right hand and grabbed the hilt of the sword beside him.
Draw the sword.
All these Flying Swords were defective, their spirits completely worn away, incapable of being stimulated even with Sword Control Technique, but their material was unquestionable, far surpassing ordinary iron in hardness and toughness, easily capable of blocking an Impact Curse's assault.
He held the sword in one hand, his body slightly turned, as he infused his right arm with the Curved Curse, assuming a combat-ready stance.