Cao Xuesheng revealed a faint smile, took down the ancient sword he carried on his back, and swayed it in his hand.
"The Cold Cicada Sword was left to me by my grandfather, I cannot give it to you Sealing Sword Pavilion." Cao Xuesheng said with a smile.
The young man spat out a mouthful of straw: "If you don't give it to me, I can only take it by force, and your head too, I'll chop it off very swiftly, you won't feel much pain."
Cao Xuesheng narrowed his eyes, his face always bearing a gentle smile, suddenly drawing his sword from its sheath.
Ancient Sword Cold Cicada!
Cao Xuesheng was a rare left-handed swordsman, his Sword Qi was not particularly sharp but prevailed in its richness and continuity, as if it were endless.
The slovenly young man also slowly drew his Longsword, and in the flash of the blade, the cold tip of the sword had already appeared in front of Cao Xuesheng.
