This was a young man dressed in feathered clothing, as if his attire was woven from strands of black bird feathers, emitting a strange luster amidst the subtly changing mist of the mysterious sea.
He held a Fangtian halberd in his hand, and his handsome face was filled with a look of surprise.
The bronze long sword spun in the air and returned to Xu Guang's hand as he looked at the person opposite him.
Not a word was spoken. After exchanging a glance, they charged at each other with mutual understanding.
No words were needed; for the youth in feathered clothing, once he struck, it was a struggle of life and death.
Xu Guang naturally understood, though he'd never truly been a bandit, he knew the bandit code: that moment of action means there's no way things can end favorably.
This is the rule of the cultivation world—survival of the fittest, needless of hatred, simply requiring the conviction that your opponent must die, and exhausting every effort.
Bang!
