Jiang Tianjian clapped his palms together, producing a sound like clashing metal. His gaze fixed on Zhaang Ye as he said slowly, "My greatest strength is my swordsmanship. Right now, I shall use my palms as my sword. You'd best be careful."
Although Jiang Tianjian was starting to take Zhaang Ye more and more seriously, he didn't believe Zhaang Ye was worthy of him drawing his actual sword. He was confident that he could defeat Zhaang Ye decisively with just his bare hands.
There were only a mere thirty or forty people in the world worthy of making him draw his sword. Zhaang Ye was not yet one of them.
Jiang Tianjian's palms became translucent, and under the infusion of Profound Ice True Qi, they looked like blades of frigid, unyielding ice. The moisture in the air sizzled as it touched his cold hands, making a strange HISS, like a red-hot sword plunged into water.
