"You're still the same. You haven't improved at all."
Flowing Wind suddenly slipped in between dodges.
Silver Dragon's thirteenth thrust was only halfway out when Flowing Wind's right-hand blade slid along the spear shaft, its edge scraping against the wood with a shrill rasp.
He used the friction between blade and spear to propel himself forward. His left-hand blade swept up from below, slashing toward the inside of Silver Dragon's right arm.
Silver Dragon was half a beat too slow to pull back his spear. The golden blade left a long, thin cut on the inside of his right arm, and blood seeped out at once, staining his sleeve red.
"Hah. All sharp tongue and no skill."
Silver Dragon's face darkened. He flipped his spear and swung its shaft hard at Flowing Wind's shoulder.
Flowing Wind tilted his head aside, flipped backward, and struck twice more as he retreated.
One slash left a shallow mark on Silver Dragon's left ribs; the other drew a foot-long line of blood down the outside of his thigh.
Silver Dragon retreated three steps before steadying himself. He looked down at the three bleeding wounds on his body, his expression turning grave.
His spearwork was still fierce and domineering, but Flowing Wind never met him head-on. He kept finding openings between dodges and striking with swift blades.
The sustained, high-intensity attacks drained Silver Dragon's strength rapidly. Sweat rolled from his temples and dripped off his jaw onto the Arena, making a sound too faint to hear.
In principle, a cultivator of the Third Heaven Quasi-Saint Realm had inexhaustible stamina.
But he wanted too badly to end the fight.
Every thrust he made was a blow struck with all his might.
He was too impatient.
"Your spear's getting heavier."
Flowing Wind's voice drifted over from a