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Xu Zimei arrived at the arena, and it was already swarming with a dense crowd.
In the very center of the arena, two young men stood with swords in hand.
The youth on the left wore a green robe, his eyes indifferent, with endless sword intent bursting from his pupils.
Around him, the sword intent enveloped his being, steadfast and eternal, conveying an indomitable, ageless mood.
The youth on the right was draped in a white robe, lacking a formidable aura, with no sharp sword light emanating from his person.
He seemed more like an average ordinary person, his white robe as pure as snow, a longsword hanging at his waist.
Xu Zimei looked at the youth in white and was slightly surprised.
"Isn't that Yan Buhui?" Xiao Guizi blinked, saying with astonishment.
Before this, Yan Buhui had parted with Xu Zimei, saying he was going to the mundane world to comprehend his Sword Dao.
