Kuang Lang gripped his dark-red long saber, his palm trembling. The power of Ye Wushuang's last strike had been immense, and the recoil alone had nearly shattered the bones in his hand.
Even now, his heart was reeling with shock. 'Ye Wushuang's Cultivation is several levels lower than mine, but his Saber Technique... it's so fast, so domineering, so uncanny!'
Nearby, the thick-browed youth and his companions shuddered. The young man they had scorned, the one they'd boasted could be beaten in a single move, had just defeated Kuang Lang—a man whom even they were wary of.
The irony was palpable.
They recalled that uncanny blade flash, how it had vanished into thin air only to reappear an instant later and defeat Kuang Lang. They couldn't help but wonder, 'If Ye Wushuang had used that move on us, what a pathetic state we'd be in now.'
At the thought, a flicker of terror appeared in their eyes.
