"Clang.clang." The sound of metal weapons colliding in more than two hundred rounds in a few minutes resounded through the ring. Jian is not vegetarian either.
After a few minutes, the two were able to draw evenly, but Deerman was obviously lacking in spirit, and the sweat on his face dripped down to the ground.
The flying sword in his hand was a little unsteady, and his hands were trembling. However, Walker on the opposite side just kept wiping off his sweat and panting heavily.
"You are very powerful." Deerman Jia wiped his hands and came over a little bit, and held the phantom flying sword in his hand a little more firmly. This medium-grade spiritual weapon was a gift from his father for him to leave the customs. It just fits his dual attributes of wind and wood.