Zhao San said, "Young master, you didn't win because you're stronger, but because your sword is sharp. If you dare, drop the Liu Song Sword and fight me!"
Liu Song frowned upon hearing this.
The Black-faced Commander shouted, "Zhao San, stop your sweet-talking, you traitor. The young master personally entering the arena was already honoring you. If I were you, I would have surrendered long ago."
Hearing this, Zhao San said, "Young master, put down the Liu Song Sword. If you can still beat me, I will be convinced!"
Upon hearing this, Liu Song narrowed his eyes and said, "Zhao San, stop your tricky words. Prepare to die!"
"Ah, can't fool you, so die!"
Zhao San raised his hand, and with a swoosh, a poisoned crossbow arrow flew out from his sleeve.
"Young master, be careful, Sleeve Arrow!"
At that moment, a murderous look flashed in Liu Song's eyes. "Playing dirty at the brink of death, die!"
Swoosh!
