Xiao Xuan drew back his sword.
"The windup for a heavy sword is slow, but the instant it falls is fast."
"Because all you need to do is let the weight drop. There's no need to exert extra force."
"But you're right. I am indeed faster than I was thirty thousand years ago."
He paused.
"Because I wanted to be fast."
Yan Wuji fell silent for a moment at those words.
He looked at Xiao Xuan's placid, waterlike face, then at the slab-like greatsword in his hand, wider than Xiao Xuan himself.
As he watched the dark-silver afterglow of the Sword Dao churning around Xiao Xuan, the smile at the corner of his mouth suddenly vanished.
"Xiao Xuan."
He spoke, his voice becoming serious and still for the first time.
"Have these thirty thousand years been hard on you?"
Xiao Xuan's hand paused slightly.
That pause was exceedingly brief, so brief that no one beneath the Arena noticed it.
But Yan Wuji saw it.
In that instant, his ever-smiling eyes keenly caught the nearly imperceptible tremor at Xiao Xuan's fingertips.
Xiao Xuan was silent for two breaths.
Then he spoke, his voice as steady as ever.
"Not hard."
"I was only waiting for a time when I would no longer need to wait."
Yan Wuji did not press further.
He clenched his fists again, and the golden-white flames coating them suddenly surged.
They spread from his fists to his entire forearms, his upper arms, his shoulders, and half his body.
The outline of the Flame Qilin appeared behind him once more, but this time, it was larger, more solid, and more blazing than before.
"Then I'll help you."
Yan Wuji's voice came from within the surging golden-white flames.
"I'll force you to your limit."
"I'll make you bring out everything