Zhao Feng’s 'lightning-fast' strike became a ponderous dance of predictable movements. Jian saw the intricate Qi flows in the Lightning Severance Blade, the precise channels of lightning energy, the brief, infinitesimal moments of imbalance in Zhao Feng’s stance. He saw the shimmering blue lines of his meridians, and the faint, almost invisible node at the centre of Zhao Feng's outstretched hand, where his Qi was most exposed as he channelled it into the blade.
He didn’t dodge. Not completely.
Instead, as Zhao Feng’s lightning-charged blade arced towards him, Jian made a subtle shift of his body, a mere half-step to the left, allowing the sharp edge to whistle past his shoulder by a hair's breadth. And as it did, his hand shot out, not in attack, but in a precise, almost casual intercept
