"That's the place—I found it last night," Min Ning pointed forward.
Water crashed against the surface of the lake, sending up a spray accompanied by a rumbling echo. At its center lay a small island, five to six zhang wide. For the two of them, considering their martial arts skills, it seemed somewhat cramped.
When martial artists duel, there's usually a ten-zhang distance between them. Within that space, countless techniques can be used, leading to probing and entangled exchanges that might last for dozens of moves. But if the distance shortens to within ten zhang, the techniques available dwindle, leaving only killing blows.
Chen Yi studied the small island, his eyes narrowing slightly.
So, the battle would be confined to mere inches?
Chen Yi placed a single hand on the hilt of his sword sheathed upon his back, readying himself to leap and land on the island.
"Don't rush," Min Ning called out.
