Hearing Xiang Yang's furious roar and watching him repeatedly escape death by a hair's breadth, Sun Tao's eyes filled with suspicion, and his heart wavered. It seemed Xiang Yang had not fully displayed his strength—or perhaps he was deliberately holding back?
It was not that Sun Tao was overly suspicious. The gap between Xiang Yang's first strike and his current performance was simply too great. His opening move, Cloud Dragon Three Appearances, split into three saber shadows and directly injured Qian Fu. The saber technique had been stunning. Though Sun Tao practiced fist techniques, even he could tell that such saberplay was far more exquisite than his Tiger Subduing Fist.
Yet after Qian Fu took the initiative to close in and fight at close quarters, Xiang Yang's performance had been rather lackluster. He clearly held a treasured saber, its edge carrying a chilling sharpness, yet he rarely achieved anything with it.
Not to mention that Qian Fu had taken anesthetic and his combat strength had greatly diminished—even in his prime, he could not have used his flesh and blood to take a saber slash head-on. Internal force was internal force; without a specialized body-tempering technique, becoming impervious to blades and spears was easier said than done.
Rather than stepping forward, Sun Tao retreated several paces after the shout. He coldly watched the two men tangled beneath the great banyan tree more than ten meters away like a single shadow, roars rising one after another and saber light flashing endlessly. He seemed completely unconcerned that Qian Fu might win.
Damn it, what a sly old fox.
Seeing Sun Tao remain unmoved and even retreat several steps, Xiang Yang cursed inwardly. Yet in that moment of distraction, Qian Fu seized an opening.
Qian Fu's left hand grabbed the back of the Wild