Master Zhao's swordsmanship was truly miraculous; in his hands, the sword seemed to possess its own spirituality, protecting him like a roaming dragon. Every movement he made was accompanied by bursts of sword flowers.
Elegant, yet not aggressively so, it gave off an air of refined, scholarly grace. However, should you be negligent for even a moment, that sword tip would pierce straight through your throat!
At that moment, the two were deeply engaged in combat, and with a glance, Li Chen judged that Master Zhao had the upper hand. Master Zhao's technique was enduring and fluid, whereas Yan Yiwu's was somewhat rash. If this continued, Master Zhao was bound to win.
Yan Yiwu's withered, tawny face turned grim, and on the sidelines, members of the Huaxia Martial Arts Community nodded slightly in agreement.
"Master Zhao's swordsmanship has indeed improved."
"Indeed, we have this round in the bag."
