A dozen or so of the black-clads had now surrounded Xiao Luo, ready to strike at once. He eyed them steadily, with a savage look on his face, then broke into a smile. The moment his assailants closed in, he swirled his body around, bending his knees, with his nine-ringed sword extended. As the blade swished through the air, a visible line could be seen as it sliced through the heavy downpour. Light reflected off the tip of the blade, drawing a bright line as the sword traveled through its swing arch. The assailants screamed, but once, before falling. Their torsos almost severed in two, blood flowed out, staining the soaked ground around them a darker shade.
"Hah!"
