Qi Xuansu looked at the remaining two people. “Which of you two will confront me next?”0

The middle-aged man wielding the sword took a step forward and declared, “Me.”0

As he spoke, the middle-aged man drew his sword with a flourish and threw the scabbard aside, the tip of the blade pointing diagonally to the ground. “I am Lu Hu. The sword in my hand is called Wu Qiao. Please enlighten me.”0

The sword was forged from extraterrestrial cold iron, measuring approximately 1.2 meters and weighing about 3.6 kilograms.0

Qi Xuansu casually drew the only cutlass he had left. “This cutlass was seized from the secret society during a Black Robes’ raid, worth about 1,000 Taiping coins.”0

Lu Hu frowned, upset at Qi Xuansu’s flippant attitude. The sword is a swordsman’s best companion. How can he measure a sword’s worth using Taiping coins?! If one cannot be dedicated to his weapon, how can he reach his fullest potential in swordsmanship?1

If Qi Xuansu knew what Lu Hu was thinking, he would probably think it was nonsense. Qi Xuansu did not deny that...0