Ping Shanhai was a cripple. Now, this crippled sword cultivator's pupils dilated slightly, his heart overwhelmed with shock.
Because he was also a powerful swordsman, he understood exactly how impressive that elder's sword strike just now was.
If the first sword could be said to barely match his own level, then the second indeed revealed his inferiority.
He now thought back to the elder's sword strike just now. Even with the knowledge that the man would strike such a blow, he still had no idea how he would deal with it!
Thus, if there was another round, he would still lose.
The mute old man slowly set down his cane, then pointed at Ping Shanhai and held up a finger.
Then, he pointed at himself, and once more held up a finger, this time two.
Ping Shanhai watched the old man's actions. After pondering for a moment, he bowed deeply to him, bending nearly ninety degrees at the waist in respectful salute.
