"Ah... if I'd known you were this disappointing, I would have limited my cultivation even further!" Xuanyu declared arrogantly, though the frustration seeping into his voice was impossible to hide.
Between the two of them, spear and sword remained locked in a standoff, grinding against each other with the shriek of tortured metal.
A powerful golden Qi, shrouded in divine thunder, roared against a purple Qi wrapped in lightning laden with destruction, their clash filling the air with the sharp stench of scorched ozone.
"If you want to open that filthy mouth, open it to tell me what you want with my child," Qingyi growled, his fingers tightening around the sword hilt until his knuckles whitened. "Anything else won't lessen the amount of pain you'll feel when you die."
In the next instant, Qingyi pressed forward, breaking the contact between the blades with a thunderous burst.
The shockwave forced him to retreat ten steps through the air, each step leaving ripples in the void.
