The bright moon hung high, and the glow of the floodlights sketched out two silhouettes wielding swords on the empty training field. Accompanied by the incessant clanging of metal on metal, one of the figures was quickly defeated.
"Twenty-four rounds," Ji Huai's sword-wielding hand slowly dropped as his long sword disassembled into metallic rings and returned to his wrist, "tonight's highest record."
Hissing in pain, Qin Chuan grimaced as he rubbed his shoulder, feeling a flicker of joy when he heard those words.
After successfully parrying Ji Huai's onslaught for ten rounds, it seemed that the speed of his sword skill improvement had increased. Each time, he was able to ward off a few more of Ji Huai's rounds, giving him a sense that he was making progress every day.
However, the joy in Qin Chuan's heart disappeared in the next instant.