Pei Ye had never thought that "two hundred" would be such an unattainable number. After several breaths, he had barely broken thirty or forty swords, when a streak of white light slashed past the Black Chi's body, scattering its scales and letting blood spray out.
The Black Chi's green eyes showed no fluctuation, still pressing forward to carve out space, but Pei Ye grabbed it, gritted his teeth and swung his sword, and used the bloody gash on his own thigh to buy himself another breath.
On the other side, the Liuli techniques, without full concentration to support them, suddenly slackened, becoming more defensive than offensive. The pressure on Qu Zhu visibly decreased, and some mysterious lines began to be outlined in the air. As Liuli moved amidst them, a hint of clumsiness became apparent.
