Every time he lightly clashed with Sun Jian's divine sword, it let out a crisp series of ringing sounds.
Each time, it caused Sun Jian's fierce and domineering sword force to suffer an imperceptible stagnation and deviation.
This seemingly insignificant interference produced astonishing results as it accumulated without pause.
After a few exchanges, Sun Jian was horrified to discover that he felt stifled, as though he had strength but nowhere to use it.
His fast swordsmanship, of which he was so proud, and his fierce, domineering sword techniques—
Before his opponent, they seemed to have completely lost their original might.
He was restrained at every turn and found every step difficult.
Yang Lingtian's seemingly clumsy sword moves appeared to possess the ability to foresee the future.
He could always predict the direction of Sun Jian's sword force in advance, always interfering with pinpoint precision at the most uncomfortable moment—when Sun Jian's strength was about to be unleashed, but had not yet been released.
This feeling made Sun Jian feel as though he could almost spit blood.
It was like a peerless strongman being stabbed all over by countless tiny silver needles wielded by a seemingly frail child—
Leaving him numb from head to toe, with strength enough to move mountains yet utterly unable to bring it forth.
"What... what is going on?"
"Senior Brother Sun Jian's offensive seems... seems to have slowed down?"
"No, it hasn't slowed down. It... it has been suppressed?"
The mocking laughter from below the stage had gradually vanished at some point.
In its place was a sea of incredulity, suspicion, and bewilderment.
Everyone widened their eyes and stared fixedly at the two people on the arena.
They could not understand what exactly was happening before them.
Yang Tianling, who had been so disheveled earlier, like