Wang Hao's face grew grave at the sight. He gripped his saber tightly with both hands, warily watching Yao Feng's every movement.
"First Form, Meteor!"
Yao Feng softly called out and thrust his sword forward. With a crisp clang, Wang Hao raised his saber across his chest. The tremendous force that suddenly traveled through it made his grip tremble, and the saber nearly flew from his hand.
Such tremendous strength!
Seeing his attack blocked, Yao Feng's lips curled slightly upward. His body abruptly appeared in another position, and he thrust out again. Before Wang Hao could react, Yao Feng shifted positions once more. The sword in his hand trailed faint streaks of starlight, dazzling the eye.
Watching Yao Feng constantly and swiftly change positions, Wang Hao felt a deep sense of helplessness rise within him. There was an insurmountable gap between his strength and speed and Yao Feng's. He had barely blocked one strike when the next was already upon him.
At last, sword wounds began appearing across Wang Hao's body. His once-neat robes had become strips of torn cloth hanging from him. A flash of humiliation crossed his eyes. He roared and viciously chopped down with his saber. Seeing this, Yao Feng silently thought, It's over. The Fire Cloud Sword suddenly glowed red.
"Second Form, Starfall!"
The sword and saber collided with a sharp metallic ring. The saber actually flew from Wang Hao's hand and landed beneath the arena, while Yao Feng's sword came directly to rest against Wang Hao's chest.
"You lost!"
Wang Hao stared blankly at the sword against his chest, swallowing hard as a bead of cold sweat slid down his forehead. He had thought that even if he could not win, he would at least be able to hold out for several exchanges. He had