Your Opponent Is Me

There was nothing wrong with a sword cultivator using his fists.

The word "Dao" held a thousand connections. Once one comprehended Dao resonance, one's divine abilities and methods would no longer be confined to a single form.

Often, using a sword and using one's fists made no difference.

What puzzled the Gravekeeper was that Lu Bei possessed the finest Sword Intent of the age, unquestionably a top-tier Sword Dao Grandmaster-level sword cultivator. Someone like that devoted himself entirely to the Sword Heart; without a sword in hand, his strength would certainly be reduced by thirty percent.

If even a sword could not break through, what could a pair of fists possibly do?

To claim that his fists could still fight was rather overconfident.

Clang----

Lu Bei was arrogant and indifferent as he walked slowly through the void.

Sword-light and sword qi blossomed, spreading beneath his feet like white lotuses.

His steps seemed slow but were actually swift. Every time he planted a foot, it was as though he had used a method of spatial transference. Afterimages flickered erratically, impossible for the naked eye to follow.

Only his surging Sword Intent grew heavier with every step. By the time he reached the Gravekeeper, that boiling Sword Intent could no longer be suppressed, reaching the peak of what he could currently attain.

The fist that descended like a crushing mountain was truly a drawn sword, its radiance dazzling, brilliant, and peerless, its edge arrogant and invincible.

"Huh, this..."

The Gravekeeper glanced sideways, unsure how to describe this attack—whether it was a sword or a fist.

Suddenly, his expression changed drastically. Beneath his mask, golden eyes showed astonishment for the first time.

The sword-light vanished, too fast for him to see.

This is bad!

The sword edge closed in. Alarm bells rang wildly