The Holy Sect disciples found themselves in disarray; their formation had shattered under the sudden onslaught of Edsmith Palace's forces.
Peng Falcon stood at the center of the fray, his breath forming misty puffs in the frigid air. A deep wound on his side stained his robes with crimson, but his grip on his sword remained steady. An Edsmith disciple with a jagged blade lunged at him, eyes gleaming with malice.
With a swift sidestep, Peng Falcon dodged the attack, bringing his sword up just in time to deflect another strike aimed at his neck. He countered with a fluid slash, the edge of his blade glinting as it sliced through the air. His opponent stumbled back, a fresh cut across his arm.
"Regroup at the eastern ridge!" Peng Falcon shouted, his voice carrying over the cacophony of battle. "We can't hold them here!"
