In the training grounds of the martial arts hall, Zhang Bin and Turen Xiong stood about five meters apart, each gripping their treasured swords as they eyed each other with tiger-like ferocity.
A bone-chilling, murderous aura emanated from them, forming two distinct fields of pressure. Even the mosquitoes in the air sensed the icy breath of death and fled as swiftly as they could, as if for their very lives.
Teng Qianzhang, Zuo Haonan, and Teng Xiaofeng watched from the sidelines with sneers on their faces. They seemed to have already pictured the delightful scene of Zhang Bin lying in a pool of his own blood.
