An inch shorter is an inch more dangerous. This is an inherent trait of close-combat weapons, a shackle one cannot break free from before reaching the Grandmaster Realm.
Yang Wenche raised his spear shaft, intending to block the sword and prepare a counterattack. But within three meters of Yu Fei, he had no way to turn the tables. He could only watch as the sword's gleam dodged his spear shaft by a hair's breadth, its sharp point coming to rest at his Adam's apple.
The young man opposite him held his longsword in a straight thrust, his left hand clasped behind his back. He possessed both the sharp edge of a Warrior and the elegant flair of a Swordsman.
Yang Wenche was utterly convinced of his defeat. He hadn't held back, but Yu Fei had forcefully exploited his most awkward position, feinting past his spear's light. A single, exquisitely profound sword strike, hovering on the edge of life and death, had ended the fight, its tip now resting steadily at his vital point.
