"Brother Zhao, your extraordinary fortune is truly admirable."
Lin Chen spoke from the heart.
Zhao Yuanhao waved it off, then fixed Lin Chen with a burning gaze.
"Brother Lin, our fight back then ended without a winner. I've been thinking about it for nine years!"
"My strength has improved by leaps and bounds, and your cultivation is impressive too. How about we have another match?"
Battle lust blazed in his eyes. The Giant Sword on his back seemed to sense its master's intent and gave a faint hum.
"If Brother Zhao wishes it, I'll gladly oblige," Lin Chen said, accepting the challenge.
"Good! That's what I like to hear!"
Zhao Yuanhao sprang to his feet, the Giant Sword already in his hand.
The gray cloth slipped away, revealing a broad, dark-gold blade. Ancient patterns ran along its spine, where a blood-red light seemed to flow, carrying a fierce, baleful air.
"There's not enough room in the courtyard. Let's go outside the city!"
Zhao Yuanhao grinned.
The two soon reached a deserted valley in the wilderness and began to test their swords against each other.
"I'm done, I'm done. I lost this fight."
Yet barely ten minutes later, Zhao Yuanhao was waving both hands, his face full of frustration.
"Brother Lin, you're... you're making this hard on a man's pride."
He wiped a trace of blood from the corner of his mouth, his expression complicated.
"You'd already made astonishing progress at Spirit Mist Mountain, and I knew I might lose today."
"But I figured we'd at least battle for three hundred rounds before I started to falter. I never thought I'd lose so cleanly."
"And why do I get the feeling you were holding back?"
Lin Chen did not answer. Instead, he changed the subject.
"Brother Zhao may have lost to