Barton crossed his arms, the two small knives in his hands forming a cross before him. In their place emerged a fierce burst of Sword Qi, weaving into a web in the air and slashing toward their chests.
The deafening clash of metal reverberated through the port, shaking the earth and mountains.
Maquiel and Montiluo were sent flying simultaneously, carving long gouges into the ground with their impact, splintering the concrete surface into countless cracks.
Barton, however, remained immovable, standing where he was with faint blade shadows swirling around him. Even snowflakes falling near him were sliced with razor-sharp precision.
"You shouldn't have made your move..."
The Rotten Saint Son Montiluo leaned on his Rod, barely managing to defend against the recent strike using his shield.
Maquiel was clearly in much worse shape compared to Montiluo.
A savage knife wound had already marred his torso.
