Sun Yang's face momentarily showed bewilderment, his eyes filled with despair.
He simply had no way to block this slash, the enemy's mastery of light and heavy, hard and soft was so perfect that it changed with the flow and with the heart.
In comparison, his own much-prided Black Tortoise Star Fiend Axe Technique, in front of this sword light, seemed like an old, decrepit ox pulling a cart, awkward enough to make one want to cry.
He doubted that even if the enemy struck a hundred slashes, his own axe might not block even one.
A massive head, with hair like disheveled grass, soared into the sky.
Sun Yang's robust body was still seated on the horse, the two axes crossed in front of him, but at his neck, a column of blood surged.
"General..."
"General Sun."
Cries and shouts of alarm came from the rear.
The white horse, however, did not stop for a moment, tracing a slanted arc, charging into the army behind.
