Qiya, holding a sharp sword, pointed the blade straight at Shi Zhou's neck, her eyes filled with blood red.
Today, she was determined to crush this person's sharp spirit harshly.
Just as the blade was about to reach his throat, Shi Zhou sidestepped, deftly avoiding her attack.
Afterward, he calmly raised his hand and used a wooden stick to block Qiya's fierce moves.
The two exchanged a few more blows, and seizing the opportunity, she intensified her force and struck the blade with the wooden stick.
Then, she jolted upward forcefully.
With a "bang," the sword in Qiya's hand fell to the ground.
Shi Zhou had only used thirty percent of his strength and had already driven Qiya to a ragged retreat, her palm burning red.
Looking at the sword on the ground, a deep shock flashed in Qiya's eyes.
How could this be?
She clearly had a sword in her hand, how could she possibly lose to someone who didn't even have a proper weapon?
