The long sword scraped against the ground.
Lu Changgen steadied himself and abruptly raised his head.
A bleak autumn wind blew softly between the two of them, and the sky seemed to have darkened.
No rain fell, yet the air carried a heavy, stifling oppression.
"Stand to the side. I can use this chance to stretch my limbs," Xu Zimo said with a smile as he turned to Fan Luoyu.
Fan Luoyu nodded blankly.
"This black cloth seems due for a replacement again," Xu Zimo said, touching the black cloth over his eyes and grinning.
"Looks like I underestimated you," Lu Changgen said, sheathing his sword as he stared coldly at Xu Zimo.
"You said it doesn't matter if I beat him to death?" Xu Zimo asked Ji Ruobing.
"Ancestor Mohe already said it. Could it be false?" Ji Ruobing said with a smile, looking at Ancestor Mohe.
Ancestor Mohe snorted coldly and did not answer again.
"It seems someone doesn't take me seriously. That truly breaks my heart," Lu Changgen said, a sickly smile on his face.
He stuck out his tongue and licked the blade. A bloodthirsty gleam flashed through his eyes as he looked at Xu Zimo.
Then his long sword passed through the Wugeng Void, carrying an intent of destruction as it struck toward him.
The sword was four feet long, its blade dark black, with the phantom image of a crescent moon engraved upon its hilt.
When that sky-piercing sword intent came surging in, Xu Zimo did not move at all.
Because he could not see with his eyes, everything in his perception was illusory.
More accurately, it was abstract.
There was no other scenery in his vision—only Lu Changgen and his sword intent.
Xu Zimo slowly extended his right hand, gathering saber intent at