"Whoosh whoosh whoosh!"
Several longswords stabbed toward Zhao Changhe, who was splitting the air as he descended.
Every sword move seemed meticulously measured, each angle perfectly coordinated, forming an extremely troublesome sword array combination, more standardized than any well-practiced array.
The main attacker was Lan Wujiang.
His wounds had healed, and his swordplay seemed to have improved dramatically. As his sword thrust forward, it gave Zhao Changhe the sensation of a piercingly cold, bone-chilling snow peak.
It was not just Lan Wujiang's swordsmanship that was at work here... it was largely Wuding's sword now.
But Zhao Changhe acted as if he didn't notice.
That's it?
With a resounding "clang," the Frog Jump had already cleaved into the center of the sword net.
