A single blow.[\s]
Ma Feima won in a single blow, but there was still no hint of joy on his face.
I could feel the impact through my palm.
Ma Feima instinctively looked over at the Raksha, but he was disappointed in his lack of reaction.
No reaction... That's right.
The Raksha man was staring at Sushang, as if he were looking into a stone or grain of sand.
Feelings of disappointment washed over me like a rainstorm.
Emotions like cold rain poured down from head to foot, enveloping Ma Feima in its chill.
Ma Feima didn’t like this blond man—it was an inherent rejection and disgust.
If I had to describe it, these Raksha were like ice floating and isolated outside the world.
She didn't need anything, nor did she care about it. Even if the world were to be destroyed—it would drift on forever
On the other hand, Ma Feima—is like a flame.
The world was smoke, and Ma Feima were burning flame.
This world exists precisely because he is burning.
Intense emotions, explosive impulses and destructive battles were what made him exist.
And then, she would find a faint fragment of herself in that hollow and hazy existence.
Those fragments are the meaning of life.
Without a doubt, it was the real old sword.
It was a treasure given to seven disciples by Phoenix.
Ma Feima knew his power well. He had almost suppressed the inner strength, and though he was gravely injured at times it would not be life-threatening for him
Even so, it shouldn't be a wound I can ignore.
He trained his swordsmanship to the 「Meikyou」 border at age sixteen...
Of the Seven Swords, only Lingshuang had mastered 「Taixuan」 at thirteen years old.