Ambition of Sword Twenty-Three

Having reached the hundred-foot pole of the sword path and taken another step forward, he had become one of the few peerless swordsmen of the age. Even Duàn Yì had never expected such a result.

After all, he had only hastily looked through the first eighteen swords of the Sacred Spirit Swordplay. Compared to the complete set of twenty-three swords, he was still far from it.

He had not held such expectations at all, yet he had gained so much. It could only be said that fortune favored him.

Those favored by fortune came in different ranks. Duàn Yì could only be called a minor character.

True children of great fortune got whatever they wished for, turned calamity into blessing, and could probably blast out a divine sword with a fart. If they got lost, they might even stumble upon some ancient ruin.

Huffing out a long breath of turbid air, Duàn Yì felt his mind clear and his spirit flow freely. With a single turn of thought, he could evolve countless exquisite sword techniques and sword intents. Something stirred between his brows, as though something were about to brew there.

His limbs and bones were powerful as dragons and mighty as elephants. His blood and qi were abundant and endless, like lead and mercury.

His strongest cultivation was even more profound and vast, like a boundless sea. Within that sea rested a round, massive golden core, crystal-clear and pure. At every moment, it swallowed the ocean and exhaled trickling streams in an endless cycle.

On the path of martial arts, spiritual insight, the physical body, true qi, techniques, and combat were never isolated from one another. They were interconnected and communicated with each other.

Progress in one aspect benefited many others.

For instance, once true qi grew stronger, the