Within the first twenty moves of the opening, Qing Huang had done his best.
He was indeed too late to save Nie Qianyu, who had walked up to him. He ruthlessly extinguished the final glimmer of hope the girl had. But it wasn't a mistake—it was the only delay he could afford.
He couldn't risk to preempt even by a split second.
His patience had paid off so far, but the advantage he had accumulated was all used up. Now, the battle was only between Qing Huang and the Three-Armed Jiao.
A bright sword light, nearly ten meters long, erupted between the two of them.
Blood still trickled from the nose and mouth of Meng Chuyuan, but he completely ignored it and launched an attack. Qing Huang blocked it with a horizontal sweep of his sword, shaking both his sword and arm, which fluttered like a loose ribbon.
He immediately lifted up his short sword with his other hand and drifted backwards three to four meters to barely deflect the blow that aimed at his neck.
