The young man blocked desperately, raising his sword at a crooked angle. The blades met with a metallic crash that made his teeth grind.
The force behind Kyrian's attack was overwhelming.
The young man's feet slid across the stone floor, leaving deep grooves. His arm trembled under the weight of the block. He tried to counterattack, releasing a cutting wind technique directly at Kyrian's chest, but he simply twisted his body.
The blood dagger sliced the technique in half as if it were paper.
The wind blades dissipated in the air, harmless.
The middle-aged man finally moved.
He appeared beside Kyrian like a ghost, without sound, without warning. His hand transformed into a claw that shone with sharp Qi, so dense it distorted the air around it.
The attack was silent and lethal, aimed at Kyrian's neck.
A strike meant to kill instantly.
Kyrian turned his head at the last instant.
