"Ding, ding, ding!"
The elder reached out to block, fending off the broken sword hilt and Silver Needle, but could no longer maintain his seated position. His entire body sprung backwards and when he stood firm, the sound of his heartbeat, like the beating of a drum, spread out.
There was also the vastness of his qi and blood like a babbling brook. The body strength of this white-browed elder was fiercer than that of tigers and leopards, probably even a real dragon couldn't match him.
Su Sheng landed, and as he ran, several Longswords flew out, but were still swept aside by the white-haired elder with a slender weapon in hand. It was a sword as thin as a fishing rod, indistinguishable from old bamboo in appearance, yet sheathed.
Until this moment, the white-haired elder hadn't drawn his sword. With one hand on the sword hilt, his robe fluttering, he carried the artistic conception of a sage in tune with the Dao.
