Jian Wushuang did not dare to speak at all. He held his breath with all his might, afraid that he would blow away the little person with one breath.
Standing on the yellow pages, the little person's white clothes fluttered in the wind, and then he moved.
He rose up with the wind, and another wisp of cloud and smoke condensed into a real sword in his hand.
The aura changed, and the page seemed to have turned into a martial arts field. The tiny man was in the center, freely practicing his moves, stirring up the wind and clouds around him.
In Jian Wushuang's eyes, every move of the tiny person was like a sword move that had been broken down and was being performed very slowly.
The more he looked at it, the more shocked he became. He actually felt a sharpness that could not be ignored from this sword technique, and it was terrifying.
But soon, Jian Wushuang was immersed in it and began to fight with the small person through his divine sense.
