Wind Qi erupted violently around Ye Chen as he forced himself back onto his feet. Blood slid down his chin, yet the hatred and anger in his eyes only deepened.
Instead of retreating, the surrounding air gathered tighter around him, forming spiraling currents that screamed sharply through the burial hall.
He was pushing himself.
Ye Jun immediately noticed the instability in those currents and smiled. His small trick was working.
'He's forcing circulation despite the injuries.'
Ye Chen raised his hand, and the fallen sword trembled before flying back into his grip. The wind around the blade compressed until it became almost invisible, leaving only a faint distortion in space.
Then he attacked again.
This time, Ye Chen abandoned precision entirely and chose overwhelming speed. His figure blurred repeatedly, appearing from different angles as sword strikes descended like a raging storm.
