The overbearing Tyrant Blade, the fleeting Swift Blade, and the enigmatic Trickster Blade.
Each blade technique showcased in turn, their blades and shadows dancing across the plain from one end to the other.
"You... are quite good," Xie Changliu said, speaking up first.
Xu Zimei smiled, the blade in his hand bursting forth with formidable might, and brought it heavily down.
It was time to conclude this pure contest of the blade and sword.
His gaze cutting across, where his eyes landed, the blade's edge followed.
As the tremendous force exploded forth, Xie Changliu's figure kept retreating.
He thrust his longsword into the ground, retreating over ten meters, the Earth marked by a long, deep sword scar.
Only then did he slowly come to a stop.
He stood upright, his proud frame standing tall, his gaze leveled forward as he twirled a sword flower in hand.
"Not asking about the years, let the wind sing," he murmured softly.
