The morning light filtered through the dense canopy of leaves, scattering into fine flecks that dappled the leaf-strewn forest floor.
"SWOOSH!"
Carrying Lie Yunting, Meng Zhao sped through the mountain forest for nearly an hour. Only when he confirmed that the heart-pounding golden Saber Intent was no longer behind them did he stop in a hidden mountain hollow.
He set Lie Yunting down and leaned against an ancient tree, gasping for breath.
On his deep-red Elder Robe, the saber wound on his left side was still seeping blood, staining half of his lapel a dark crimson.
Although the wound on his right shoulder was shallow, it made the hand he used to grip his sword tremble faintly.
His usually composed face was now beaded with sweat at the temples.
In his fight with Chen Wanjun, he hadn't gained the slightest advantage.
