The DreadBlade whistled through the air, leaving streaks of black that swallowed the light for an instant. Every swing carried speed and precision that seemed almost playful, yet each cut tore through the ash soldiers as though they were paper. Sparks exploded around him in showers of orange and red.
But the soldiers didn't stop.
Two came at his sides, one low, one high. Wuxie ducked under the higher blade, sliding across the heated floor, then brought the DreadBlade up in a sharp arc. The shadowed edge carved both in half, scattering them in glowing fragments.
Another soldier thrust straight at his chest.
Wuxie didn't parry. Instead, he leaned into the attack, letting the flaming sword scrape across his shoulder coat. The green fabric singed, smoke curling up, but Wuxie's expression didn't shift.
