He Looked Like a Dog...

Clang! The two blades crashed together, sending sparks flying.

Pan Long and Chief Han each took a step back and glanced at their weapons from the corners of their eyes.

Both blades were completely unscathed.

They could not help frowning to themselves.

Each had complete confidence in his weapon. Neither thought an ordinary blade could stand against it, yet neither had gained the upper hand.

Pan Long took it better. He knew the Sacred Longsword was especially powerful against evil, but that applied to "evil enemies," not necessarily "the weapons of evil enemies." It was only natural that he had gained no advantage, and he could accept that.

Chief Han was stunned. His blade had an extraordinary origin: a Sorcerer had forged it through an evil ritual involving murder and sacrifice. Whenever it killed an enemy, it absorbed flesh and life, growing sturdier and sharper. Over the years, Chief Han had killed countless people with it, refining it into a divine weapon that could cut Jin and carve jade, sever a hair with a breath, and kill without a drop of blood clinging to its edge.

Yet the white-glowing longsword in his opponent's hand could match his treasured blade blow for blow. How could he not be astonished?

They exchanged several more moves, their weapons colliding again and again. Neither gained an advantage.

Chief Han grew increasingly uneasy. When the blade was forged, the Sorcerer had warned him: "This blade is extraordinarily powerful, but it grievously violates the harmony of heaven. With it in your hand, each person you kill yields a sliver of their fortune to you. Accumulate enough, and you can stride unhindered across the world. But if you encounter someone who can counter this blade, you will suffer misfortune equal to all the benefits you have gained."