The blade was halfway through its arc when Blade Qi surged from within, forming a streak of Blade Light. This Blade Light tore through the air, emitting a sound as if fabric was being ripped apart.
In the blink of an eye, the blade edge had already reached Su Mo, yet it could not move even the slightest bit further from three inches away from Su Mo's forehead.
Su Mo grabbed the blade with one hand, looked up and nodded, "Indeed a good sword."
"..."
How could the person who struck the blow utter another word?
The wielder's Mystical Skill was pushed to the limit, but the blade edge could not press down even a millimeter further. The metallic clang of the blade sang out with a piercing sorrowfulness, the Blade Light flickering desperately yet entirely in vain.
With a casual twist of his hand, Su Mo brought the blade close to him and flicked his fingers:
"Let go!"
With a miserable scream, the person was sent flying backward.
