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... in front of my face before I could blink.
If I’d hesitated even a second, that punch would’ve shattered my skull. But instinct took over—my legs sprang back just in time.
Damn. The old man wasn’t bluffing. No wonder they called him the North Tempest.
I gripped my sword with both hands and struck forward, trusting my body to do the work.
In that moment, I was sure the hit would land.
But like a snake, he twisted and sidestepped, letting the blade graze past ...
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~ Closing remarks
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~ Postscript and what I want to say
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