Although she loved Tang Xiaobao deeply, she had always been the little princess of Chijin City and hoped that her man would be stronger.

Every little girl hopes that her boyfriend is a hero.

This is called a heroic complex.

Tang Xiaobao wants to compete with the Holy King, so today should be a training session, and also an opportunity to see how powerful he is.

Unfortunately, she was destined to be disappointed.

Although the lone wolf is strong and the sword rhythm is powerful, they cannot arouse Tang Xiaobao's fighting spirit, nor can they make him use his full strength to deal with it.

He even casually used his finger to represent a sword. When he stretched out his finger, a sword was drawn, and a sword intent emerged naturally.

Even though Tang Xiaobao just casually struck the sword, using only 20% of his strength, the sword rhythm was not something that the lone wolf could handle.

As soon as the sword is drawn, the whole world is filled with sword intent.

The rhythm of the sword mixed in it filled the heaven and earth.

The lone wolf's sword rhythm is unstoppable and extremely sharp.

But Tang Xiaobao's sword intent seemed to have reached the legendary state of unity between man and nature.

The world is all in the rhythm of the sword.

The rhythm of swords fills the world.

Where in the world is there no sword?

Where in the world is the sword?

Wherever the sword's rhythm reaches, all things are imprisoned and can no longer shine.

The lone wolf's face changed drastically and his whole body trembled.

As the person involved, he could best appreciate the profoundness of Tang Xiaobao's sword style.

He couldn't comprehend it or understand it, but he could feel the power of the sword rhythm, and at the same time, he could also feel his own insignificance.

It was like Tang Xiaobao was a peerless swordsman, and he was just a three-year-old child who couldn't even hold a sword.

There is absolutely no comparison between the two sides.

If the other party shows even a hint of murderous intent, he will be chopped into a meat paste by the sword rhyme, right?

He thought so.

I wanted to surrender, but I couldn't find the words.

His sword rhythm had long since trembled, retreated, and finally disappeared without a trace.