The man charged straight at Tong Qi, risking injury from the fan's ribs.
Tong Qi's gaze flickered. Clearly, he had not expected his opponent to be so fierce.
Then again, although the poison on his folding fan could completely seal the spiritual qi of an early Golden Core cultivator, it was far less effective against someone at the mid Golden Core stage.
Thus, even after sustaining cuts, the two men could still fight him on equal footing.
The instant the man closed in, a strange smile curled Tong Qi's lips.
He still looked puzzled when he heard his companion behind him cry out in terror, telling him to come back.
But it was already too late. A splash of crimson appeared before his eyes, yet his sword had clearly not even reached this brat.
Agony tore through his neck. His longsword slipped from his hand, and when he touched his neck, his palm came away covered in blood.
He saw a flash of silver in the graceful young man's hand. The folding fan was already back in Tong Qi's grasp, and Tong Qi gave him another faint smile. "Looks like that little girl eclipsed every last bit of the rest of our brilliance at the sect's Grand Tournament."
Everyone knew that girl's swordsmanship was fierce and incisive, but no one knew that Tong Qi's fan was swift and venomous.
Fighting two mid Golden Core cultivators might have been strenuous, but fighting just one was clearly much easier.
And when the remaining man saw his companions dead or crippled, he was so frightened that he turned and fled.
A cultivator had to remember never to panic during a fight. The more they panicked, the more openings they exposed.
The man before him now was a perfect example. He had lost even