The echo of the sword's hum slowly deepened.
Water vapor settled on the sword's edge, cascading down along the ridge of the blade.
The longsword halted; it did not thrust forth, it did not take Zhang Zuosheng's life to avenge his own grievances. This decision was beyond the expectations of everyone atop the mountain.
Li Qidao raised an eyebrow, unable to resist calling out "decayed scholar".
If it had been any Grandmaster there, or even any martial artist, perhaps even those Taoists who pursued the path of cultivation, nine out of ten would have not hesitated in the slightest to strike with their sword, piercing through swiftly and decisively.
