Phantom Sword Style, Blade-less Seizing

The sword intent of the Phantom Sword Style was lofty and distant, dreamlike and illusory. Its sword qi arched like a rainbow; once unleashed, sword shadows filled heaven and earth, completely engulfing Duàn Yì within.

If Duàn Yì had to describe how he felt at that moment, he was like a hatchling wrapped inside an eggshell, trapped in a cramped space where he could barely breathe, his entire body pressed beneath a force of martial power.

Even everything before his eyes had become utterly unlike the vibrant, dazzling world of the past. All that remained were flashing silver sword shadows and sword qi.

For Duàn Yì, there were countless ways to break this move. The Vortex Strength within his Ice Profound Energy could do it; palm techniques, fist techniques, finger techniques empowered by his profound cultivation, even movement arts could all break it.

Even if he wished, with his nearly Great Accomplishment indestructible body, he could take this move head-on without much concern.

After all, in terms of pure cultivation alone, even Qū Dōng Liú's peak eighth-layer Asura Yin Sha Skill combined with the Blood Remnant Art had failed to harm him.

Yet as a peerless swordsman of the age, one who had practiced swordsmanship from the very beginning of his martial path, who had lived with the sword and kept the sword at his side, he would never sully a battle belonging to swordsmen. In a pure contest of swords, he had never lost.

Duàn Yì raised his wrist. A streak of cold light tore through the air with a hissing sound, bursting forth from his body as sword qi and striking toward a gap amid the hundreds of resplendent silver sword shadows.

That place was clearly empty—without sword qi, sword shadow, or sword form, a patch of pure