Lian Youming touched his throat and rubbed his chest, pacing as he secretly mobilized his internal breath. His gaze was dark and unfathomable, yet he laughed as he said, "The strongest spear and shield? No wonder."
"No wonder what?"
Gan Xuantong's smile was rather playful, but his expression was somewhat grim, for he had heard a trace of mockery in those words.
Thunder rolled across the sky, and rain poured down.
Lian Youming said mildly, "Your martial attainment may be extraordinary, but your faith rests not in yourself, but in all those martial arts. You see them as the foundation of your invincibility. No wonder a single setback leaves you beyond saving. Attack or defense, a contest between martial artists is an exchange of fists and feet. Though we fight over a few feet of ground beneath us, the human mind holds limitless possibilities. To create endless ways of fighting within a limited distance, to turn the finite into the infinite, to paint a world of our own between life and death-that is the true pleasure we seek in walking this path."
Facing Gan Xuantong's livid face, so ugly it was almost distorted, Lian Youming paused before continuing, "It seems your martial world, your Way of Attack and Defense, has room for only these few supreme arts."
Gan Xuantong's face went from livid to pale, then dark, before finally becoming expressionless again.
The torrential rain struck them both, splashing in bursts.
The sounds from downstairs were all but drowned out by the rain. There was no telling who had won or lost, who had lived or died.
Gan Xuantong's eyes had gone red, yet he smiled. "You talk as though you can win."
Lian Youming shook his head. "You're wrong again. When we first exchanged blows, I might not have