Hadjar swung his sword in a circle through the air, and blue wind came out of that circle. The rustling of the grass that it touched, the noise that it created in one’s ears, were like a fleeting melody. The melody of the Quetzal bird’s flight. The icy fish rammed into the flying feathers. Small snowflakes fell to the swaying grass. Hadjar straightened up and returned his blade to its scabbard.
“This appears to be a draw, honorable Tash’Magan.” He bowed slightly with satisfaction.
Drip-drip…
“Not quite, my young friend,” Tash said, smiling as she slid her huge blade onto her back. As soon as the blade touched the small plate on her back, leather bands shot up and wrapped around the ice sword, leaving only the hilt visible.
Starting at a certain level of cultivation, it was quite ra
