It was the Seven Moons Elder's misfortune, for she had greatly underestimated her foe.
Could she have been faulted though? Most men and women would fall at her prowess and skill. She couldn't have known that her opponent was the Ivory Sword Saint himself, who parried and knocked her off balance as if mere child's play. Even worse, that the shorter, soft-face cultivator was no cultivator at all! And was a demon with powers that startlingly resembled a Hui.
A pained grunt escaped her lips as a heavy blow came down on her sword. Who knew such elegant movements could pack such terrifying strength. Her nerves yelled, numbing needles traveling up her arm that made her grip falter.
She clenched her teeth and cursed how calm the Ivory Sword Saint was, not a single bead of sweat glistened upon his brow.
But it was not the Ivory Sword Saint or even the strange enemy demon that wove her greatest concerns.
