With Cao Qiudao's appearance, the crowd at the venue immediately erupted in cheers. Cao Qiudao, however, seemed completely unconcerned. He merely stared at Fang Zheng, then descended the steps one at a time, walked onto the square, and advanced toward Fang Zheng step by step.
One step, two steps, three steps.
Cao Qiudao moved slowly, almost as if he were in a movie's slow-motion sequence. His right hand gripped the hilt tightly as he slowly drew his sword from its scabbard. The distant onlookers could not see clearly, but Zhongsun Xuanhua and the others could. Cao Qiudao's expression was extraordinarily grave, as though he were facing a battle of life and death.
"Whoosh—!"
At last, Cao Qiudao sharply swung his right hand, drew his longsword, and pointed it at Fang Zheng. Seeing this, the crowd cheered loudly again, then immediately felt that something was wrong—Cao Qiudao had merely drawn his sword, so why did they feel as though he had just overcome some terrible ordeal?
Could this young man truly be that formidable?
"Not bad. You've got some skill."
Seeing Cao Qiudao draw his sword, Fang Zheng smiled faintly.
"Then take a sword strike from me. If you can block it, then calling you the Sword Saint would not be an exaggeration."
As he spoke, Fang Zheng slowly raised his right hand and made a grasping motion in the air.
Then, everyone was stunned.
Following Fang Zheng's movement, a Greatsword radiating silver light materialized above his head. It looked as though it had condensed from beams of light, standing dozens of meters tall and even thicker and larger than ancient trees a thousand years old. Merely appearing there made everyone instinctively hold their breath. Some weak-willed people even had their legs give out and collapsed onto the ground.
"This, this