Returning to the Heavens...
Years ago, he made a name for himself in the Capital, full of vigor and pride, yet his heart as a swordsman was once broken by the then obscure Ma Yan. The talented swordsman calmly uttered these words.
In his hand, a sword lightly covered with frost was waved without a touch of the mundane world.
Hiss, hiss...
The cold air spread wantonly, and he didn't choose to close in on the retreating Zhao Douan.
Instead, he flicked a curved streak of Sword Qi.
Like a cold fog, the condensed smoke-like Sword Qi detached from the blade, silently sweeping down the long street like a life-claiming specter.
Crack, crack...
The blue bricks along the way were blanketed with a straight line of white frost, as thin and delicate as a thread.
Zhao Douan, caught off guard, sank his body down, braced his feet against the ground tensed like a bow, and slashed straight down with the knife in his hand, colliding with the Sword Qi.