Under the silvery white moonlight, a group of red sword light twinkled in and out of existence. They rolled back and forth, and the sword whistled. It was free and casual. Ding Hao's movement grew from slow to fast and then slowed down from rapid to extremely slow. He was immersed in a mysterious state.
Four hours passed in the blink of an eye and the moon hung in the middle of the sky.
Ding Hao's movement was so slow that it could not slow down any further.
It was like the slow-motion in films but had a certain charm to it.
If someone had been staring at the trajectory of the rusted sword by the side, they would definitely feel exhausted, dizzy and faint within moments.
The power of the sword had far exceeded that of regular sword skills.
What was even rarer was that Ding Hao
