This was not Tang Qingxiang being reckless. In truth, Tang Qingxiang did not care in the slightest about the losses of those behind him. Like the three black-clad men earlier who had scrambled to claim merit only to be crushed by Chi Yaoli in one stroke, cultivators of that level were no more than ants in his eyes. And some of the formidable cultivators behind him served Qi Lianliancheng; they belonged to Qi Lianliancheng's side, not his and Kuang Wuxin's. The more of them that died, the better it was for him.
Tang Qingxiang had told the many people behind him, who had already been poised to strike, to stop only because he too cultivated flying-sword arts. And ever since his defeat at Old Zhao Nan's hands, Tang Qingxiang had understood just how important sword intent and sharpness were to his cultivation.
If he chose to retreat before an opponent who held him in such contempt, his edge would invisibly be diminished by a great deal, which would be extremely detrimental to his future cultivation. The more a person possessed the innate sharpness and unyielding nature of a sword embryo, the higher their attainment in sword arts would be. After repeated life-and-death battles, although Luo Bei was undeniably a junior to Tang Qingxiang in the path of sword arts, Luo Bei's own True Essence, the Jing Nian Tong Ming Jue, his sword intent, and the imposing momentum he had tempered meant that the power of his Natal Sword Essence had likely long since surpassed Tang Qingxiang's.
But no matter what, Natal Sword Essence remained something many sword cultivators could only gaze upon in longing. It was still one of the most powerful weapons in this world.
A violent, overwhelming aura exploded forth in an instant. There were no lack