The tall man had been knocked back, but he had not truly suffered any injury. What enraged and alarmed him more was the fact itself.
It meant that his opponent could strike him.
He could sense that Zhang Yu had been probing again and again, and through this had found a flaw even he himself had not known existed.
This time, he had merely been forced back. The next time, however, he would likely suffer a grievous blow.
Yet before he could find a proper response, the sword light came sweeping after him like a shadow, forcing him to remain doubly vigilant.
After the sword stroke that wounded the tall man's neck, Zhang Yu had already determined that, because this man's power did not belong to himself, he had to devote more thought to directing it. This inevitably caused a slight delay and lag in its use.
And that left room to work with.
In battle, even the slightest lag was the distance between life and death.
He used his flying sword to launch swift attacks from afar, forcing the man to respond, then struck through a gap in the transition of his consciousness. Naturally, he was able to hit him.
This was, in truth, turning a contest of strength into a contest of mental movement. Whoever possessed swifter, more agile thoughts and awareness could seize the advantage in battle.
Still, the layer of spiritual radiance around the man was not merely for show. Though it could not return external force, it could block the force directed at him.
But now that Zhang Yu had confirmed this method worked, he could make further adjustments against it. When he struck again, it would not be so simple.
The tall man's eyes flickered uncertainly. He had to face the incoming sword light