Smooth and coordinated, the elegant sword strike was as heavy as a thousand pounds.
A slender wound split open along Lawrence's left cheek, extending to the bridge of his nose, narrowly missing the chance for Lorenzo to blind him in one eye.
Such a perilous blow, yet Lawrence showed no intention of retreating, he gently touched the edge of the wound, his fingers rubbing against the blood.
"You've learned well."
Lawrence looked at the blurry face in front of him and said. Due to dim lighting and the snow curtain's obscuring, Lawrence could only discern Lorenzo's movements, not his appearance.
"It's because you taught so well, Dean."
Lorenzo replied, and Lawrence's smile widened.
He knew Lorenzo's intention, choosing this battlefield to leave Lawrence nowhere to escape... but likewise, Lorenzo also had nowhere to escape, only one could leave alive between them.
