Thus, each side had won and lost exchanges, maintaining a balanced stalemate where neither could prevail, and the final outcome remained uncertain.
After more than twenty exchanges, Ma Shaokang's eyes gleamed. With a sudden feint, he leaped over Ma Tianyi like a vicious tiger vaulting a ravine, then spun around in midair. In an instant, the long saber in his hand split into hundreds, thousands of phantoms, hazy blade shadows slashing down at Ma Tianyi below.
Ma Tianyi's fists whirled like wheels, fierce winds howling around them. Let you change in a thousand ways and transform in ten thousand—I would meet it all with a single punch. Moreover, his force flowed on without end, with reserves of strength yet to come.
Yet through a moment of carelessness, his shoulder and right cheek were both wounded by Formless Blade Qi, each cut leaving a scar as blood seeped out.
Ma Tianyi was greatly alarmed. Drawing upon the true qi in his dantian, he transformed it into a surging wave of qi that filled every direction around him—above and below, before and behind, left and right. It shook the surroundings and shattered at least a dozen strands of Formless Blade Qi.
A moment later, the blade shadows dispersed. Ma Tianyi had suffered no further wounds, but these two injuries alone had already tipped the scales of victory toward Ma Shaokang.
"What a Miro Invisible Saber. At such a young age, you have actually cultivated such martial arts. Ma Ruzhen is inferior to you!"
Ma Tianyi brushed the blood from his cheek and stared in amazement. The Miro Divine Skill was an internal cultivation art. Ma Shaokang had trained in it since childhood and had already built a deep foundation. That he used its essential principles to support his many saber techniques came