Meng Zhao smiled faintly, carrying himself with the composure and grandeur of an old martial arts master. He raised a hand in a placating gesture, nodded, and said,
"Lin You? Your footwork is square and complete, yet your aura is hard and biting, your killing intent sharp as a sword. You have already grasped both hardness and softness within the sword, so you can be called a capable hand. Unfortunately, your cultivation is still somewhat lacking. Though hardness and softness advance in tandem, neither has been comprehended to its utmost limit. Breaking you would not be difficult.
"You have stepped forward alone now, presumably intending to use this Dragon King as a whetstone to temper yourself. A fine calculation, and fine courage.
"However, I have a word of warning for you. Though you are brimming with confidence, you are absolutely no match for me. And once I strike, I will show no mercy. Those two elders of your cult beside you may not be able to save you in time. Think it through carefully.
"Consider this warning a return for a peach—a plum in return. I am merely repaying that Dharma King's goodwill toward me just now."
Meng Zhao's tone was neither warm nor cold, yet he naturally possessed an air of lofty supremacy, like a god who turned the wheel of creation and looked down upon all living things. From on high, he commented upon Lin You's swordsmanship, his presence rising without limit, terrifying as a divine mountain holding up the heavens, suppressing the four seas and all directions.
For one fleeting instant, Lin You truly wavered. He wondered whether his decision had been too rash. If the two Dharma Kings really could not save him in time, could he truly die here?
The moment that thought arose and