The weapon in the Drilling Mountain Leopard's hand was quite strange. It was shaped like a heavy sword but had no point; its sides were lined with sharp serrations. It looked less like a weapon and more like a saw.
"I worked at a lumber yard from a young age, using a saw for over a decade. After I began practicing martial arts, I tried many weapons, but none of them felt right. In the end, I had a blacksmith forge this iron-toothed sword for me."
A nostalgic look appeared in the Drilling Mountain Leopard's eyes as he looked at Zhao Lin. "What do you think of it?"
"You're dead no matter what you use!"
Zhao Lin had no patience for his nonsense. In a single leap, he was upon the Drilling Mountain Leopard. He swung his iron ruler in a 'Thousand-Man Sweep,' putting ninety percent of his strength into a strike aimed at the man's ribs.
