On the stage, Zhao Shisan and the disciple of the Demon faced each other.
By now, he had wiped away the blood from his face, revealing a fierce expression, no longer the carefree demeanor he had at the beginning.
Zhao Shisan furrowed her brows slightly. Although it seemed like she had the upper hand, she knew that defeating this disciple of the Demon was still not easy. The sword technique that merged with the wind, which she had comprehended under the old hackberry tree a few days ago, was extremely mysterious. It flowed like the wind, but it was more focused on sneak attacks, with limited direct killing power. Moreover, Zhao Shisan had a short time of understanding it.
In a head-on collision, she was confident in taking down her opponent. However, the disciple of the Demon's mystical poison was something she had to guard against.
She wanted to win; to be more precise, to win beautifully.
While Zhao Shisan was contemplating, the disciple of the Demon made the first move.