His pale gray eyes remained cool and indifferent. He merely drew a light breath, then advanced with his sword again.
A resolute bloodiness erupted on the battlefield where only the two remained.
There was no more probing or maneuvering. Each regarded his enemy as himself, never expecting the other to fall into a trap, much less imagining he would lose his head for an instant. Both saw every detail and shift in their deadly struggle with equal clarity. Two streams of pale hair flew amid beads of blood, and bright sword shadows shattered in disarray.
And so there were no dramatic surprises. Amid clean, decisive exchanges, the difference between them inevitably emerged.
Wu Dong's body was not strong enough. He had suffered heavier injuries earlier, and in their contest of blade against blade, the advantage created by Sea-Swallowing could not be overcome.
Then, at a certain moment, their sword fight instantly became a brutal close-quarters struggle.
It was hard to imagine two Profound Gate Grandmasters fighting such a duel, but they truly met elbow with elbow, leg with leg, blade with blade. Fists, swords, and knees collided at full force again and again. Every naked blade swung through a gap was perilous.
"You've lost." The old man beneath the Play Mask suddenly spoke hoarsely, bloody breath escaping his throat.
Wu Dong wore no mask, but his perpetually cold face was no different from one. After a moment's silence, he lowered his eyes. A vicious sword light suddenly rose from his waist, like a flash from a polished mirror.
Against ninety percent of Shaolong's eighth-growth fighters, that strike would have been enough to take a life. Here, however, it was merely another fresh commonplace. Qu Zhu's saber flowed like a shadow, already gliding lightly against the sword's edge.
Once again, their