Qu Zhu clearly knew how he would decide to make his cut, and was also very aware of the weak spot he had left for himself.
However, no matter what, to face the blade unarmed was but the act of an empty arm, especially in the Vein Tree Realm, facing an opponent also at the Eighth Level—it was utter nonsense.
But... that was the left arm.
The most resounding clash of metal, amidst the whirl of blade Qi, the black robe shredded like charred ashes, followed by the slicing of flesh... and then came the surging black iron. At a glance, it looked like a worm's nest, the fine silver lines traced upon it quivering brightly under the brunt of this blade.
Qu Zhu obviously could not withstand this cut; his left arm plummeted along with the momentum of the blade, his body lurching sideways, but the chillingly silent mask still stared at Meng Li.
