By all appearances, the newcomer looked like a shop accountant or the steward of some household. Yet a three-inch knife spun in his hand, its gleam flashing like lightning, his movements ghostlike, forcing Daoist Qingxuan back so relentlessly that he could not thrust out his longsword.
Clang, clang, clang!
The clashes of steel came as thick as rain. Every stroke Daoist Qingxuan made was precisely blocked by that little knife, leaving him no room to unfold his swordplay.
More terrifying still, the little knife seemed to have eyes. After every block, it seized an opening to counterattack-stabbing, flicking, slashing, slicing-every move aimed at a vital point.
One stab!
The blade struck Daoist Qingxuan's right arm. Blood sprayed, and his sword faltered.
Two stabs!
The blade struck his left arm. He grunted and staggered backward.
Three stabs!
The blade struck his right wrist, and his longsword fell to the ground with a clang.
Three strikes, all within the flick of a finger.
Ma Laosuan, whose pipe bowl had been about to strike He An's throat, was even more frightened, his soul nearly fleeing his body.
He needed only another inch of force to kill He An, but he already felt a fierce blade aura at his back-bone-piercing, ice-cold, steeped in death.
He knew that if he insisted on striking, he could certainly kill He An, but that little knife would also pierce his heart and leave him dead on the spot.
In that lightning-flash instant, Ma Laosuan made his choice.
He twisted and swept several yards sideways at an inconceivable angle. His strange movement resembled a startled snake, barely evading that fatal strike.
The figure flitted unpredictably, the knife flashing as fast as lightning.
In a single instant, everyone except the three formidable fighters-Boss Feng, Daoist Qingxuan, and Ma Laosuan-fell to