"This old man's bones are tough, I doubt you could chew them; your big teeth might fall out before you finish!" Roan teased with a confident smile.
Roan snorted, cold fury flashing in his eyes as he gripped his short sword with a lethal intent. His sword aura pulsed like a gathering storm, spreading a heavy sword intent around him, pressing on the tavern's charged atmosphere.
Ethan's own eyes sharpened. A fierce change washed over him in an instant. The sword intent he released solidified, coalescing into an invisible shield of energy compressing tightly around his body, bracing for the imminent clash.
Since the tavern was a battleground sacred to the Blood Tavern, neither would unleash their full strength outright—they compressed their fiercities, readying a duel focused purely on swordsmanship.
"I hear you're a physical cultivator," Roan spoke low and direct.
"Today, no spiritual energy—just weapons and body strength. No bullying."
