Xia Jing? Chen Shijie and Long Xiao were also stunned, he certainly knew who Xia Jing was—that was Xiahou's most outstanding son.
Yu Ziqi, however, did not recognize Xia Jing, nor had he heard of this prodigy. He was even more engrossed in the Sword Dao than Long Xiao and generally paid no attention to these matters.
Nevertheless, Yu Ziqi's compliance was indeed high. As soon as he was told to stop, he immediately ceased.
The flying swords hovered at the tip of Xia Jing's nose, neck, chest, and groin, yet they did not fully penetrate.
Still, this thoroughly frightened Xia Jing, especially the flying sword at his groin—that had already pierced his battle armor and nicked his skin.
If Zhao Xing had called for a halt even a moment later, he would have been destined for the palace to serve there.
"Xia Jing? Are you really Xia Jing?"
"It's me." With four flying swords pointing at him, Xia Jing didn't dare to move an inch.
"What was the first food I gave you to eat?"
"Ugh—"
