BAM.
A spray of ice shards flew everywhere, and the ice sheet was marred by a series of deep pits where the two had stepped. After his first strike missed, Xue Liang immediately began a deadly pursuit of Zhao Zuo. His footwork was profound and his movements were nimble, his Swordsmanship exquisite and untraceable—a combat instinct honed through countless battles to the death.
Light flicks, horizontal cuts, vertical slashes, and straight thrusts—each and every move, coordinated with his footwork, was incredibly deadly. He stuck to Zhao Zuo like glue, giving him no room to breathe.
No pre-battle banter, no probing attacks—only the struggle between life and death.
Zhao Zuo casually slapped a few Vajra Talismans onto himself, raising a golden barrier that temporarily blocked Xue Liang's dense, rain-like assault. Countless sword shadows, slashing and stabbing, fell relentlessly. The sturdy golden barrier began to tremble, looking as if it could shatter at any moment.
