Zhao Yuanshan's pupils contracted, then he gave another cold snort.
He tightened his grip on the wooden sword, its tip angled toward the ground. Drawing a deep breath, true qi burst forth from his Martial Spring, filling his meridians.
This thirteenth-generation descendant of the Zhao Family was considered a rather renowned genius among the younger generation in Forgotten River City.
Yet he had one major flaw.
He was far too rash, and his comprehension was lacking.
Compared to his elder brother, Zhao Yuanhua, one was in the heavens while the other was underground.
Still, Zhao Yuanhua dearly loved his younger brother.
Chen Yan stood with his hands behind his back, his Plain White Daoist Robe looking exceptionally clean in the afternoon light.
Zhao Yuanshan stared intently at Chen Yan standing before him. When he recalled the way Zhao Yanxin had looked at this handsome young man not long ago, fury instantly flooded his heart.
The wicked fire in his heart burned until his head swelled.
With a low shout, he stomped down hard, leaving fine cracks in the bluestone slabs beneath his feet.
Like a cannonball leaving the barrel, he charged at Chen Yan. The sharp whistle of the blade slicing through the air rang out as it thrust straight for Chen Yan's chest.
He showed no mercy whatsoever; the strike contained all of Zhao Yuanshan's rage and unwillingness.
Chen Yan did not move.
He still stood with his hands behind his back, not even blinking.
Only when the sword tip was less than half a foot from his chest did he shift slightly aside. The wooden sword, infused with true qi, grazed past his robe.
Though it was merely an unsharpened wooden sword, the sword wind tore a tiny slit in the cloth over his chest.
Yet unnoticed by