No Sword to Draw

For Martial Cultivator Cao Ci, it was fists.

For sword cultivator Ning Yao, it was the sword.

It was as if she had been born with a mysterious, profound grand phenomenon of heaven and earth.

This was not the same as Chen Ping'an's first Natal Flying Sword, "Cage Sparrow," or Qi Jinglong's flying sword, "Rules," which he claimed to have read out of books. Both could use their Natal Flying Sword's Natal Divine Ability to create a Small World.

So when Ning Yao was the first to step out from the group, Sword Immortal in hand, about to break the formation—

The Demon Race Army, which had already been stalled in place, actually began retreating of its own accord. This caused the troops on the front line to crowd together ever more densely, bloated beyond measure.

Perhaps this was the instinct of all living things. When heaven and earth changed, all things reacted instinctively, just as people sensed the shifting warmth and cold of the seasons.

Chen Ping'an was actually looking forward to seeing Ning Yao draw her sword without reservation. All this time, he had never seen the real Ning Yao upon a battlefield.

As for Sword Immortal, the sword Chen Ping'an had painstakingly spent so much effort to barely tame, it had the temper of some lofty old master in his hands. Yet once it fell into Ning Yao's grasp, it became as docile as a little girl. Chen Ping'an did not mind in the slightest.

Ning Yao slowly walked forward, in no rush to deliver her first sword strike.

The Sword Immortal in her hand shimmered with flowing golden light. Combined with the Golden Liquor magic robe that already drew every eye on the battlefield, it made Ning Yao seem like a supreme deity walking among mortals.