The palm was as fair as jade, with golden light tracing through it. The fingers were long and nimble, capturing the sword edge as easily and delicately as trapping a bird in a net.
Clang...
It sounded like metal clashing against metal, echoing through the mountainside.
The sword light was buzzing, struggling, but it couldn't escape that palm, or rather, those three fingers, as it jumped powerlessly and hopelessly, unable to break free.
Dong An's face turned red, his robe billowing, unsure whether to advance or retreat. He had switched to holding the sword with both hands, but the sword remained motionless, as if stuck in mid-air, no matter how hard he tried, he couldn't pull it back.
This time, all the disciples fell silent.
All had their mouths agape, not knowing what to say to express their astonishment.
"You hit me with a sleeve, slashed me with a sword, so I return a sword to you, isn't that fair?"
Chen Ping's eyes were calm, a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.
