Xiang Yang and Sword Obsessed stood roughly seventy zhang apart, each holding a wooden saber or sword. They faced one another in silence, their gazes and primordial spirits, like machines that never paused for an instant, carefully searching for flaws in the other. It was an immense test of endurance, mental strength, and power.
One breath, two breaths, a quarter-hour, two quarter-hours, one hour, two hours...
From the sun hanging high overhead, golden light spilling across the earth, to the sun setting in the west and dusk darkening the sky, then to the moon rising, round and bright, the two remained like lifeless stones, utterly motionless.
As time passed, unfamiliar figures began to appear beside Flying Waterfall Cliff. There were around a dozen of them, all swordsmen of considerable attainment who had reached the Innate realm—the Grand Swordmasters holding the highest status in the Sword Hall apart from Sword Obsessed.
"I thought the rumors were false. How could a young man barely in his twenties attain such a level? Now it seems we were frogs at the bottom of a well, looking down on the heroes of the world."
The swordsman who spoke had thick brows and large eyes, with an honest, simple-looking face. A broad, heavy greatsword rested on his back; at a glance, one could tell his path emphasized overwhelming force.
Eight Leaves was renowned throughout Kang Province, a first-rate master second only to Heavenly Man experts. How could he have been killed by a young man in his twenties? Who could possibly have believed it?
Now, with the facts before his eyes, he had no choice but to believe.
In his eyes, Xiang Yang and Sword Obsessed had wholly transformed into a saber and a sword, entwining, striking, colliding, probing for flaws in each other's qi that