"My Lord!" Qing Feng managed to catch his breath and tossed his sword towards the prince.
The blade remained sheathed, but in the hands of Ye Siheng, it appeared as sharp as ever.
Though his body remained steadfast, he engaged in a swift exchange with Ni Kun, even without drawing his own sword.
Ni Kun's soft sword proved futile, and when Ye Siheng finally unsheathed his own, the flurry of swordplay left Ni Kun with several wounds, staining his robes with blood.
Ni Kun staggered back.
A hint of mockery flashed in Ye Siheng's eyes.
"With such skills, you think you can kill me? I'm afraid not."
Though Ni Kun excelled in Daoist arts, his martial skills were poor.
He gritted his teeth. "No matter how formidable you are, you're still a cripple."
No longer willing to engage Ye Siheng head-on, Ni Kun immediately conjured a fire talisman, igniting the nearest bookshelf.
The flammable materials within the room quickly caught fire, spreading rapidly.