The "Moon Soul" sword was drawn.
Cheng Xinzhan's emotions remained largely unchanged.
However, upon hearing the mournful cry of the "Peach Capital," he felt a pang of discomfort.
The sword itself was not at fault, nor was it embroiled in any conflict; it was merely the wielder who held a stance.
The "Moon Soul" emitted a chilling cold, its trailing edge leaving a trail of fine ice crystals as it slowly approached.
The "Peach Capital," on the other hand, radiated intense yang fire, with a dazzling morning glow trailing behind it.
The flying sword was nearly impossible to catch within the morning light, moving with such speed and agility.
Suddenly, the sound of water echoed in the sky, as if waves were surging in the sea.
Faintly, Cheng Xinzhan thought he saw a wave crest.
The "Peach Capital" flickered and leaped forward, but the wave suddenly appeared in its path, slightly slowing its momentum.
In that brief moment, the "Moon Soul" closed in.
The azure blade of the "Moon Soul" pressed against the "Peach Capital," its tip rotating slowly yet swiftly, exerting a soft but persistent force.
Sparks flew as it scraped against the "Peach Capital," while the "Moon Soul" itself retreated, though its speed quickly diminished.