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Biên tập viên: Misty Cloud Translations
Xuanyuan Mo Ze's cold gaze stared indifferently at the old man, the Xuanyuan Sword in his hand slashed down on the other party's shoulder but was blocked with the clamp of the opponent's hands. However, the sword blade was still stuck at his shoulder, as he was unable to slash down again, so he simply drew the Xuanyuan Sword back with the flick of his hand. The old man let out a cry of pain as his hands that had clamped onto the Xuanyuan Sword, along with the shoulder which had been slashed, saw a spurt of crimson gush out.
He did not give him a chance to catch his breath, the moment he withdrew his Xuanyuan Sword, the hands of the sword hilt once again unleashed a series of fast and ruthless attacks, all directed accurately to his fatal points.