It felt like a teacher guiding him hand-in-hand in live combat, ensuring Ning Zhuo gained from every breath.
The successive attack of the bronze knife was diverted by the bronze sword body.
Following the momentum, the blade glided along the ground, shifting from a thrust to a slice, sweeping towards Ning Zhuo's ankle. The shift between blade techniques was seamless and fluid.
Ning Zhuo's pupils narrowed slightly. In a hurry, he could only withdraw his leg and leap backward.
His jump was a bit rushed, causing him to bend at the waist in mid-air, leaning forward with his upper body, lifting the bronze sword to create a brief sword screen for defense.
The bronze sword helped to adjust, allowing Ning Zhuo to barely ward off the sinister slice.
However, his pant leg was still cut open, revealing a thin slit; the hairs on Ning Zhuo's shin stood on end, feeling a piercing chill.
Before he could steady himself, the bronze knife followed him closely like a fatal disease.
