Three-foot Green Blade, its offensive fierce, but caught between two fingers.
The tip of the sword, just a millimeter away from Yu Shilong's eyelid.
Unfortunately.
A miss is as good as a mile!
Just this one millimeter, no matter how forcefully Cheng Zihua exerts, no matter how intensely he channels his Primordial Qi, he can't advance further.
The blade, due to too much force, has already bent and seems like it could shatter at any moment.
And those long fingers, they haven't twitched the slightest; the owner of the fingers stays motionless, his expression indifferent.
The two fingers, naturally, belong to Lin Hao.
Yu Shilong had already shed a cold sweat, his eyelids twitching, looking at Lin Hao with gratitude.
A great kindness does not need to be voiced, he said nothing more.
The atmosphere around became eerily tense, and one could clearly hear everyone's breathing in the field.
Very coarse.
Very heavy!
