Nakagami Hiroshi was now left with only the short blade in his hand. He stared at Chen Chuan, his chest heaving slightly, his eyes a contradictory mix of shock and excitement.
He was nervous about his opponent's strength, yet at the same time, he eagerly anticipated such a challenge. Spinning the short blade in his hand, he solemnly assumed a stance.
Chen Chuan tore off the tattered half of his sleeve and strode forward. Thanks to his Horizontal Heart Strength Training, his entire body was almost without an opening. As he advanced, the pressure he exuded was immense.
As Chen Chuan approached, Nakagami Hiroshi's breathing grew ragged. Blood surged through his veins, his nostrils flared, and his pupils dilated.
Once he was close enough, he suddenly lunged forward. A sharp, white mist flashed from the tip of his blade, which reached Chen Chuan's face in an instant.
Chen Chuan tilted his head aside, simultaneously reaching out to grab his wrist.
