Yan Hanqing's true body perished, but his other primordial spirits still remained. One after another, the primordial spirits leaped into the air, weaving and intersecting as they attacked Chen Tang.
Chen Tang held his sword, looking like an unparalleled swordsman as he leaped and flipped. The Xuanwei Sword thrust out from various different angles, and with the slightest flick of his sword tip, a sky full of sword light erupted.
His sword moves were exquisite to the extreme, every single movement and posture as precise as if measured out bit by bit by divine craftsmanship using a meticulous square and ruler, without the slightest deviation—frighteningly accurate. Even the best Sword Masters could only ever reach his level at most; it was impossible for them to be more precise than him.
This was the reason for his strength, yet it was also the part of him that Chen Yindu disliked. Chen Yindu felt that despite his youth, he was far too rigid with craft, lacking the mastery to synthesize everything into a grand tradition.
Yet Chen Tang simply did not possess the casual, unrestrained temperament of Chen Yindu and Chen Shi.
His childhood had been far too repressed. He was naturally gifted, but his family had Chen Wu, who was even more gifted. He longed for his father's affection and care, but his father favored Chen Wu. He studied hard and forged ahead, yet in every respect he fell short of Chen Wu.
Even those fair-weather friends of his father viewed him as dull, slow-witted, and inflexible.
It was within such an environment that he cultivated this cautious, skating-on-thin-ice temperament. Regarding his cultivation in particular, he constantly sought perfection beyond perfection.
In the span of a short moment, all eleven primordial spirits fell under his sword.
Chen Tang returned the sword