The contest between a short sword and a little sword was unlike one between two long swords. As the saying went, "One inch shorter, one inch more perilous." If two short weapons met with a clang, it would become a joke.
Moreover, Zhang Xiaohua knew that the old man could not truly sense his divine sense, so he had long since released it to monitor the changes in the old man's swordsmanship and movement technique.
Thus, no matter how the old man's swordsmanship changed—whether false and true interwove, or every move was solid—it could not escape Zhang Xiaohua's divine sense. He could always find an opening amid the changes in the old man's short sword, then calmly employ the Nameless Sword Technique and send his little sword toward the old man's throat, forcing him to keep changing moves and dodging. After more than a dozen exchanges, the old man had already fallen into a disadvantage.
Though the bronze mask covered his face, it could not shield his throat. Moreover, judging from the wind raised by Zhang Xiaohua's little sword, the old man did not doubt that even if it struck the mask directly, it could easily pierce through it.
Where had this young man sprung from? His swordsmanship was actually this formidable? Could he be a powerful figure recently trained by the Misty Sect, which had drifted off who knew where these past few years?
Though I cannot see this young man's face, his voice makes him sound quite young. To possess such cultivation at this age—if given enough time, would he not steadily surpass all of us? If I do not leave him here today, there may never again be such an opportunity.
Though he was at a disadvantage, the Old man with bronze mask instantly formed a plan