Zhang stepped forward. Each of his motions was akin to a tide crashing down. Flowing Tide Style lived up to its name. His qi-infused strikes mimicked crashing waves, endless in rhythm, layered in pressure. His sword came from the right. The arc was sharp, fast, and elegant.
Quinlan moved.
No elemental flare. No spiritual burst.
Just his body.
He parried with his immense strength and footwork, which was still a bit unrefined compared to Ayame's, but honed through many brutal drills.
Truth be told, Quinlan's preferred fighting style was much closer to Iris's and even the wild Raika's. He didn't like to overthink things during combat too much, nor was he as flexible or graceful as his oriental samurai lover.
