Before Xiang Yang had passed the three trials of proving the Dao, he had never doubted that someone in the world could kill him. The world was vast, with crouching tigers and hidden dragons; the Sword God and the Demon Emperor alone were enough to claim his life.
Yet ever since breaking through the three trials, Xiang Yang had believed that no one in this world could threaten him, much less kill him. But at this moment, the Demon Ancestor's desperate strike told Xiang Yang that nothing in this world was impossible.
With danger hanging by a thread and the crisis coming in the blink of an eye, the black hole formed by the Demon Ancestor hurtled toward him. The White Dragon Sword Qi beneath Xiang Yang's feet exploded with a boom, plunging into that black hole like young swallows returning to the forest. Xiang Yang's primordial spirit showed faint signs of instability, and no matter how he struggled, he seemed unable to avoid being dragged into the black hole.
Yet Xiang Yang did not give up. The Demon Ancestor's attack was indeed one that risked life and limb, using a divided soul to assassinate him, but resigning himself to fate was not his way either.
The next instant, the humanoid fleshly body formed by Xiang Yang's primordial spirit scattered apart. Flecks of starlight, like fireflies dancing over summer-night fields, gathered anew into a peerlessly clear primordial spirit saber blazing with divine radiance, which cleaved down toward the black hole.
Xiang Yang's learning throughout his life was as vast as the sea. In his early years, he imitated those who came before him; in his middle years, he created his own martial arts. After proving the Dao, his martial cultivation had become unfathomable. When facing enemies, exquisite and marvelous moves