However, shortly after, Sikong Master was unwilling to show weakness. He flicked the Peach Wood Sword in his hand, his body suddenly expanded, as if several streams of Inner Strength emanated from within. He chanted, "Brat, your skill is nothing more than this."
In the air, those dozens of Ice Swords that had originally retreated seemed to be infused with a strong force, slowly moving forward.
And those fist forces seemed unable to withstand this force of ten thousand pounds, slowly retreating backward.
Despite these words, Sikong Master's heart felt heavy.
He could clearly sense Ling Xiao's formidable strength. He was doing his utmost, yet those fist forces remained intact, not pierced by the Ice Swords.
Ling Xiao appeared to be quite relaxed, with a smile on his face, looking confident of victory.
This would be a prolonged tug-of-war.
One centimeter, two centimeters, three centimeters...
The Ice Swords were advancing at a pace almost imperceptible to the naked eye.
