Sheng Jing Wu was about to speak again, hoping to pry for any sort of possible information to his advantage. However, his voice was instantly muffled, only to be replaced by a screeching howl of agony. For once the silver-haired devil swung his sword, all of his planned strategy of biding for time to prepare against the enemy's attack had died out.
The silver-haired devil moved from one instant to another, his sword slashing all too fast. Faster than the eye could perceive. Within a few milliseconds, Sheng Jing Wu's arm, which had wielded the crescent moon spade, had now been severed from the rest of his body, having been cleanly cut off with one graceful sweep of the sword.
He staggered backwards, clutching the bleeding shoulder with his one remaining hand.
First, there was shock. His mind couldn't register what had just occurred. Then came the agonizing pain.
He hadn't felt this level of agony in hundreds of years…
