Draw Sword Slash, with each drawing of the sword, only one slash was made.
Of course, one could sheath the sword and draw it again, slashing once more, repeat the process endlessly.
As long as Oda Mai had enough strength.
Yi Lin was not witnessing Oda Mai's swordplay for the first time.
Every time, Yi Lin felt that Oda Mai's sword-swinging posture was filled with a strange beauty, a straight line connecting two points, clean and decisive, without any unnecessary, fancy flourishes.
It wasn't until after Oda Mai had swung her sword and sheathed it that a fine line of blood appeared on Marisa's neck.
Perhaps it was fate; Oda Mai and Yi Lin had agreed to take action, both targeting each other's necks, as if they had a special fondness for that area.
Marisa's eyes widened, her body stiffening.
The wound on her neck, along with the explosion of her skirt, seemed to have dealt a heavy blow to Marisa.
Three seconds later.
