The More He Thought, the More Terrifying It Became

At another glance, the swordsman was already clutching his arm and rolling on the ground, screaming miserably.

No one knew when the longsword had somehow ended up in Zhao Sheng's hand.

"Ah, this one's a tough nut! Get him together!" The other swordsmen's faces changed drastically. At someone's shout, the seven swordsmen blocking the front and rear gripped their longswords and slowly closed in on Zhao Sheng.

"Young Master, don't use the sword! You've only just recovered from a serious illness—you mustn't get hurt again. Why not throw them some silver and buy ourselves peace?" Chen San cried anxiously, sweat pouring down his face.

As he spoke, he reached to snatch the longsword from his young master's hand.

But in the next instant, his vision blurred, and he lunged at nothing.

Looking again, Zhao Sheng had already stepped into their encirclement. His longsword pointed diagonally at one man, his expression utterly relaxed, as though the seven swordsmen were beneath his notice.

"Damn it, kill him!" Unable to bear the provocation, one swordsman clenched his hilt in fury and hacked viciously at Zhao Sheng's head.

Zhao Sheng shifted his feet and slid to the man's side in a single step. He raised his longsword lightly, its edge slanting sideways.

With a wet slash, the swordsman actually ran straight into the blade. A huge gash tore open across his neck, and blood sprayed out, soaking his clothes in an instant.

"Urgh, urgh!"

The swordsman dropped his blade and clutched his neck with both hands, making muffled, terrified noises.

After staggering forward two steps, his body went limp and he collapsed to the ground. He twitched a few times, then breathed no more.

"Ahhh!"

At the sight, the other swordsmen hastily raised their longswords and rushed in together with ghostly howls.

**Swish, swish,