Swoosh—
His left arm drew a beautiful arc in midair.
Landing.
Bending his knees, he directly leaned back to sit down, and despite there being no actual support beneath him, the beautiful woman seemed as if she were sitting on an invisible chair.
Cradling the lute, her fingers rhythmically danced upon the strings, each plucking of the strings appearing as if invisible weapons were being hurled forth.
Sometimes fast, sometimes slow, sometimes light, sometimes forceful.
Each cow intestine string was plucked at different timings, each as if a variety of weapons were assaulting him head-on; the varying intensity of each pluck felt like different people wielding weapons to strike at his own body.
Knives, swords, spears, axes…
Men, beasts, birds, souls…
In just a few breaths, Wu Mingsheng felt as if he stood on a battlefield, facing an onslaught of thousands of troops.
Crack!
Blood light danced in the air, a sudden cut appeared on his back with no warning.
