Everyone was baffled by Bai Zihan's confidence—or rather, his overconfidence.
Perhaps it was the first time anyone had met someone this arrogant while standing at death's door.
The silver-haired man sneered.
"Still bluffing?"
He took a step forward, vanishing with a burst of wind.
Whoosh!
His movement was sharp, honed through decades of combat.
His saber left its scabbard with a shriek, trailing light. In that instant, the room seemed to bend under the force of his advance.
"One strike," he said coldly. "That's all it'll take!"
Bai Zihan didn't move.
He simply watched.
The air cracked—the saber split the room in half as it came for him.
Kong Zhanghong cried out, flinching.
"Young Master!"
But just before the strike landed—
CLANG!
The ringing of metal echoed like a tolling bell.
Sparks exploded.
The silver-haired cultivator's expression shifted from smug certainty to stunned disbelief.
His blade had stopped.
No—been caught.
