The sword attack was extremely covert and fierce, striking with the overwhelming force of thunder on the person outside the door in the moment they let their guard down.
In that instant, there was only the sharp chill of the blade cutting through the air.
Wang Anfeng had not anticipated such a turn of events and was caught somewhat off guard, yet he remembered he was in disguise, likely mistaken by Chuan Lian as a martial artist from Immortal Pavilion. It seemed forgivable. Without drawing his sword, Wang took a half step back to avoid the piercing cold of the longsword's edge.
Since his right shoulder had been wounded by Zhao Zhengyong's desperate strike four days prior, he now fought only with his left hand.
He raised his palm slightly and flicked his fingers against the sword edge.
