Wu Buxu's sword vibrated, the blade resonating with the energy of the two opponents. From his fingertips, it dispersed outward, while Chen Yi couldn't withdraw his hand in time, leaving a faint streak of blood across his palm. The two distanced themselves.
He clenched and then relaxed his fingers toward his palm, wiping the blood away with his fingertips.
"Impressive swordsmanship," Chen Yi said softly.
Wu Buxu smiled faintly and said, "Such a formidable talent the younger generation produces."
Ever since Xu Qi shattered the thunderous sword momentum at Dangyang Lake, Wu Buxu, having refined the energy of The Three Pure Ones, stood atop three sacred grounds of Sword Dao. For nearly two decades, he confined himself to these places, and the higher his expectations of the future of Sword Dao, the deeper his disillusionment had grown. In the end, all that awaited him was half of what he hoped for, leaving not even enough room for true disappointment, only numbness.
