"Seven Stars Falling, Shaking Light..."
Jiang Ziming was evidently very proud of the sword technique he cultivated, openly chanting the name of the move before striking, his voice piercing like a crane's cry, straight through the eardrums.
At the same time.
As the sword light flared, Chen Ping only saw seven starry sword flowers appearing before him, straight at his brow, philtrum, throat, both sides of the chest, abdomen, and other critical spots...
The sword light's points floated, the edge not yet touching the body, already chilling him to the bone.
Like sharp needle pain, reacting within the mind.
This feeling was not an illusion.
Chen Ping knew the opponent's sword techniques were exquisite, and that was fine... but the key was, there seemed to be an inexplicable energy attached to this sword.
Blocking barehanded would likely lead to a disadvantage.
