Seeing Yong Xian's anxious expression, Nie Yun merely smiled faintly and offered no explanation.
Seeing his brother's demeanor and knowing how utterly confident he was, Nie Tong smiled as well. His body stretched, and he landed in the middle of the Combat Platform.
Whoosh! Whoosh! Whoosh!
The moment he had taken his position, the sound of air splitting rang out around him. Several black arrows shot over from afar, aimed directly at Nie Tong.
"Not bad!"
Nie Tong was not flustered in the slightest. With a light flick of the longsword in his palm, its tip struck the arrowhead dead-on. With a clang, the arrow fell to the ground.
Whoosh!
As though he had known beforehand that it would strike the arrowhead, the longsword in Nie Yun's hand moved as fluidly as drifting clouds and flowing water, without the slightest pause, thrusting toward another direction. Another crisp ring followed, and yet another arrow was struck precisely on its tip and dropped down.
In less than two breaths, Nie Yun thrust out five consecutive strikes. Every strike landed exactly on an arrowhead, and with every crisp ring, an arrow inevitably fell to the ground.
His movements flowed like drifting clouds and running water, as though he had long known where the arrows would come from and had positioned his sword there in advance. Or perhaps the arrows themselves had been fired directly at his sword, never aimed anywhere else.
"What a fast sword..."
Yong Xian, who had been worried moments ago, was nearly dumbstruck at the sight.
He had seen plenty of experts draw their swords, and he had also seen many Sword Dao powerhouses, but... he had never seen anyone strike with such speed, such confidence, and such precision!
Just what level of mastery over the sword did one need