Heaven only knew how much he had sacrificed over these three hundred years!
Pigs were indolent by nature and loved nothing more than sleeping in.
Yet to reach the pinnacle of the Sword Dao, Zhu Wei had risen punctually during the predawn hours every single day.
Four hours meditating on the sword, four hours cultivating the Sword Scripture, four hours tempering his sword heart, and four hours solidifying his sword intent.
Of the twenty-four hours in a day, he spent sixteen practicing the sword.
Even with that, coupled with the peerless talent of his Innate Sword Bone, it had taken him a full three hundred years to cultivate his Sword Dao to the Metamorphic Realm.
How powerful could a youth barely twenty be after a mere twenty years, even if he had begun practicing the sword in his mother's womb?
Since he had suffered setbacks in physical strength and spiritual fire, he would crush his opponent with the Sword Dao and reclaim his lost porcine majesty.
"You think you're strong?"
Seeing Zhu Wei stare down at him with lofty contempt, as though looking at an ant, Xiao Chen found it utterly baffling. The Sword Dao was his greatest strength. Was this Zhu Wei really so powerful that he dared look at him as though he were demon dung?
"Strong? Little brat, you must have some misunderstanding about me! To you, on the path of the sword, I am a mountain piercing the clouds, towering ten thousand fathoms high, beyond your reach—a majestic heavenly chasm you will never cross in your lifetime. You tell me whether I'm strong!" Zhu Wei said.
He was not throwing his seniority around or hawking his own melons and praising their sweetness. His strength simply made it impossible to keep a low profile!
The Sword Dao