"You are the strongest one I have ever fought!" The executioner swung his almost equally tall executioner's sword crazily at the Phoenix Mask Man, each swing filled with a bloody aura.
The Phoenix Mask Man, with his longsword in hand, easily neutralized every attack from the executioner and remained unscathed, whereas the executioner, his initially spotless white robe as pure as snow, was now dotted with crimson, stained with his own blood.
Thirteen wounds in total, all inflicted by the Phoenix Mask Man, though none were fatal, but for the assassin from Hidden Kill Hall, known for the most kills, being driven to such an embarrassing state was intolerable.
"Your strength is very average." The Phoenix Mask Man said indifferently, his words scarce, having only spoken two or three sentences since his arrival—just like his sword, his strikes were clean and efficient, devoid of any unnecessary movements, each one aimed to kill.
