The Ancient Monarch Hunter's longsword descended in a slash.
It was like a pale, fierce flame, straight and powerful, falling downward.
The sword light reflected in the depths of Silver Weslan's eyes made everyone involuntarily hold their breath. In a single stroke, the Walker stepped forward to block, crossing his two swords, time seeming to freeze at that moment. All three blades collided, the edges rippling with visible tremors.
The ripples slowly traveled from front to back, and it was as if people could see six invisible lines extending from Fang Hong's hands—each carrying different languages and reasonings, wrist joint dissipating force, elbow joint folding, center of gravity leaning back—they seemed to see a bright spark flashing from the Core Crystal, the great force pushing the Sword Bearer back nearly a foot, but its four legs simultaneously shifted stance, dragging a deep furrow in the ground.
