Qingfeng Edge belonged to the Hidden Sword Sect.
These three girls clad in white had been traveling with Wang Anfeng and others, and only now did they display the formidable prowess typical of legitimate heirs of a renowned sect, their movements graceful yet powerful. They managed to entrap a Seventh Rank Martial Artist who lived off the edge of his blade, their green umbrellas poking at three vital acupoints around his body, the Qi Force reverberating, lifting the curtain of rain.
The man's mouth opened, but he was unable to speak, his body swayed, and he fell straight into the muddy ground.
The music from the zither ceased.
Wang Anfeng's palm rested on the zither strings, his fingers slightly trembling.
His breathing somewhat hurried, a sense of having narrowly escaped great peril surfaced in his mind, a green umbrella was held above his head, shielding him from the pouring rain.
