The sword tip buried itself deep into Xiao En’s left shoulder for an instant before being pulled out, trailed by a stream of blood that was anything but graceful. At his age, even the amount of blood in Xiao En’s body was visibly less than that of a younger person.
Friar He, with his sword across his chest, floated back!
Xiao En sat on the ground, his withered right hand holding onto a branch as thick as one’s forearm. Before Friar He’s sword made contact, the old man somehow, giving up his left shoulder, struck the branch down hard at Friar He’s shin from a seemingly impossible angle.
The front end of the branch had been smashed to pieces, demonstrating how powerful the blow had been.
Feeling a sharp pain, Friar He’s already pale face turned even whiter. While his right hand still steadily held onto his sword, his left leg started to shake.
