Bai Qixiong, the guard at the first royal prince's side, taunted, "I heard that the Duke of Xianyu was the strongest duke in the empire, with great abilities. I looked up to you for a long time. Today, I shall see for myself how powerful you truly are! Song of the Breeze Sword!"
With a swipe to his waist, he drew a graceful, flexible sword. An quiet aura enveloped the sword; it was immensely cold.
With a flick of his wrist, the sword moved like the breeze. It's path formed an impenetrable wall. The sound of the sword slicing the air was like the songs of the deceased. It was dazzling.
The Duke of Xianyu's expression turned grave, "Song of the Breeze Sword? And your surname is Bai? Could you be the one who placed 11th at the Holy Meet 15 years ago? The genius of swordplay, Bai Qixiong?"
