Eric Bolton has poor character, but he is quick-witted and decisive, sinister by nature, and carries several protective secret treasures on him, making it not easy to kill him. Then there’s William Smith, at the fifth level of Qi Refinement, with extremely rich combat experience. Yet both of these men were easily killed in a short time. This suddenly emerging enemy must not be underestimated.

Looking again at the long saber in Brian Grant’s hand: about five feet long, two and a half fingers wide, the blade straight with no curve, the tip forming a sharp angle, the guard narrow and delicate. Though the whole saber is slender and long, it gives an impression of grandeur and depth, fierce and domineering. Held in Brian Grant’s hand, the saber’s sharp aura presses down, making one’s blood sink.

As a master swordsman, Mark Sullivan naturally recognized this saber as a Tang-style horizontal saber. Three thousand years ago, a swordsman named Tang swept the world with a self-forged long saber, invincible wherever he went. Later generations all honored him as Emperor Tang Ming. The straight-spined, narrow-bladed long saber he created was also called the Tang-style horizontal saber.

However, over the millennia, the secret techniques of the Tang saber gradually faded away, and such straight-spined, narrow-bladed long sabers have become rare. Judging by Brian Grant’s posture with the saber at his chest, it was precisely the most widespread opening stance of the Tang-style saber: “Saber Questions the Heavens.”

“A hidden master of the Tang saber?” This thought flashed through Mark Sullivan’s mind, but he immediately dismissed it. The Tang saber’s techniques are all grand and heroic, fierce and upright. Yet the opponent’s expression was gloomy and cold, his killing methods ruthless and cunning; William Smith had clearly died from a sneak attack with a needle-shaped magical weapon—definitely not the style of a Tang saber master.

While Mark Sullivan was speculating about his opponent’s origins, he saw Brian Grant charging in with a wild saber attack, startling him. “This opponent is fighting desperately!”

Brian Grant advanced, raising his saber for a furious downward slash. Though the saber’s momentum was fierce and sharp, his chest was left wide open, exposing a fatal flaw.

Mark Sullivan had been preparing, already holding the advantage. At this moment, all he needed to do was thrust his sword swiftly, and he was fully confident he could pierce Brian Grant’s heart. Even if Brian Grant didn’t die on the spot, that savage slash would pose no threat.

But such an obvious flaw made Mark Sullivan hesitate. Judging by Brian Grant’s killing style, it was clear he was deep and cautious, meticulous in planning. Would someone like that really expose such a flaw? The secret techniques of the Tang saber are unfathomable—perhaps this was a deadly move within the saber art.

On the other hand, maybe the opponent was deliberately using this flaw to exploit his hesitation and gain the upper hand. Because Brian Grant’s saber strike was so powerful, if Mark Sullivan dodged, the advantage he had built up would be neutralized by this one blow, putting him on the defensive.

Mark Sullivan knew he was overthinking it; his sword instructor had scolded him countless times: when wielding the sword, one must be sincere and upright, never distracted by anything outside the sword. Even so, the quick-witted Mark Sullivan couldn’t suppress his thoughts and hesitated once again.

This hesitation was not physical, but mental. The chilling sword aura formed by the unity of man and sword was lost in an instant due to Mark Sullivan’s moment of doubt.

Brian Grant, whose spiritual power was formidable, was extremely sensitive to changes in aura. The subtle shift in Mark Sullivan’s momentum was immediately sensed by him. As one waned, the other waxed—Brian Grant’s saber aura surged dramatically.

Mark Sullivan deeply regretted it; his moment of hesitation had put him completely on the defensive. If he attacked now, it would only end in mutual injury, which Mark Sullivan absolutely could not accept.

At this point, Mark Sullivan instead made up his mind: “First avoid his sharp edge, then maneuver around him. As long as I hold out for a while, the opponent will collapse on his own.”

Mark Sullivan’s long sword thrust out like lightning, striking precisely at the oncoming saber’s edge. “Ding…” With a crisp ring, the slender saber blade quivered slightly, and a tiny gap appeared in the fierce, continuous saber aura. Taking advantage of the force from his sword, Mark Sullivan drifted away through the gap in the saber aura.

Retreating with the wind, Mark Sullivan’s movements were as light as a feather, his figure flitting unpredictably up, down, left, and right, making it impossible to tell which direction he would retreat to. This secret technique, “Dancing Willow in the Wind,” was exquisitely subtle in its variations and was one of Mark Sullivan’s strongest life-saving sword moves.

Although he had temporarily escaped the enemy’s saber range, Mark Sullivan felt no joy. In the recent clash of sword and saber, Brian Grant’s powerful and fierce saber aura was condensed as one. Using his sword to borrow force, Mark Sullivan instead drew a trace of saber aura into his body, shaking his vital energy to the point of boiling, and the second-grade mid-tier Azure Sword in his hand nearly flew out of his grasp.

“Dancing Willow in the Wind” was by no means a defensive move; rather, it borrowed force while seeming to retreat, hiding countless killing opportunities. Having suffered a hidden loss, Mark Sullivan was powerless to counterattack and could only truly retreat by borrowing force. In terms of the situation, he had fallen into a dangerous predicament.

Brian Grant’s Qi Refinement cultivation was also only at the fifth level, but his true power was pure and unified, far surpassing others at the same level. Mark Sullivan first lost the initiative due to hesitation, then misjudged Brian Grant’s true strength—these two mistakes put Mark Sullivan at an absolute disadvantage in just one exchange.

So as Mark Sullivan retreated, he activated the Feather Ring on the middle finger of his left hand. The coiled Flying Lin Ring, shaped like a small snake, was forged from thirty-six poisonous feather beast scales. When activated by magic power, the thirty-six sharp, poisonous scales would spin and shoot out. Mark Sullivan could even use special aura sensing to control, to a limited extent, the angle and speed at which the poisonous scales were fired.