The duel began, frost sweeping across the arena, Si Lingle's Qingchu Sword hummed softly, its blade trembling with a cyan cold glow, as spider-web-like ice cracks silently bloomed on the green bricks underfoot.
Jian Lan stood ten zhang away, enveloped in a pale blue Spiritual Mist, the ground beneath her feet condensed with thick ice crystals, even her breath carried a piercing chill.
Two forces collided, the air bursting with the sound of shattering ice crystals.
Si Lingle's figure was like lightning, the blade not yet reaching but Sword Qi preceding it, three chi of cyan aura carrying a shrill whistle in its path straight towards Jian Lan's throat.
Where the sword light swept, frosted flowers on the ground exploded radially, forming crystalline traces of condensed Sword Qi.
Jian Lan hurriedly retreated, conjuring three ice walls behind her, which shattered layer by layer like thin paper under the sword aura.
