"All right. Come on."
He kept one hand tucked in his sleeve and the other behind his back, leaving only his left arm exposed.
"You can make the first move. I'll give you a one-handed advantage."
Feng Xiaotian stared at him and slowly clenched his jaw.
A one-handed advantage?
When had anyone ever given him, Feng Xiaotian, a one-handed advantage?
His Self-Created Soul Skill, the Gale Demon Wolf Thirty-Six Consecutive Slashes, had held up against opponents five or six levels above him. Once he launched the sequence, no one at his level had ever survived twenty slashes.
He slowly raised both hands. Wind-attributed Soul Power poured from his palms and condensed into two green wind blades around him.
He drew a deep breath, forced his surging anger into his Soul Power, and felt his gaze turn cold.
"You don't need to give me an advantage."
His voice deepened. Soul Rings lit up beneath his feet, one after another: three in all, two yellow and one purple. He was a level-thirty-nine Soul Ancestor.
Green wind swirled around him, lifting blades of grass and sending them spinning into the sky.
He crouched like a demon wolf about to pounce, kicked off the grass, and shot straight at Fang Fan in a green blur.
He held back on the first slash, using only seventy percent of his strength.
He wanted to see what this drunkard could still do after suppressing his Soul Power.
The green wind blade shrieked through the air toward Fang Fan's shoulder. Fang
Fan did not even lift his eyes. He drew his left foot back half a step and drifted half a foot sideways like a sheet of paper. The blade grazed his sleeve, cutting away only a strip of white cloth.
The second slash followed immediately.
Feng Xiaotian