Chen Shiyi

Chen Ping'an held a blade in each hand but did not rush to strike.

Facing a "peer" who ranked among the young Ten People, there was some art to how he fought this battle.

After all, the top ten had no order of precedence.

And he was only eleventh.

As for the cotton-clothed round-faced girl before him, her true identity, lineage, and origins were all still shrouded in cloud and mist, as though she hid within the moon. Since she dared come here, she had to be certain she could leave alive. Otherwise, that old dog Dragon Lord would never have indulged her whim.

So he absolutely could not frighten her off.

He had to put her at ease, make her cut loose and try her hardest to beat him to death.

Besides, if someone in the top ten could not kill a man ranked only eleventh, it would be hard to explain. Word would not sound good.

Chen Ping'an walked slowly toward her, the two short blades spinning rapidly between his fingers and across the backs of his hands.

Blade-light wove together like streaks of drifting fireflies. His movements were so fast, the flashes so numerous, that their radiance wound around itself until two adorable little full moons seemed to rest in Chen Ping'an's hands.

Seeing that the young man was in no hurry to attack, She Yue patiently waited for his opening move.

She wondered what approach he would use to get straight to the point: talismans for an Illusion Technique, a Sword Cultivator's flying swords that had made the Sword Immortal Embryos of the Jiashen Tent suffer, or the Peak Realm fists of a Pure Martial Artist?

She Yue had heard many legends about the Sword Qi Great Wall's last Yin Guan. Two sayings in particular had