He then drew in the essence of geng metal and Taibai's sharp qi, melting it all into the blade. The flames in his palm abruptly turned blazing white, their heat astonishing.
A soft sword wreathed in azure light began to take shape. With a sharp cry from Su Yang, countless ancient runes slithered across the sword body like living things, engraving themselves, branding themselves, sinking in—the blade trembled softly and gave a clear ring, its radiance spilling forth like water.
It looked intricate, yet it had all happened in a flash. With a single thought, he harmonized the flow of time, stretching the instant of artifact refinement into a brief moment, then compressing that brief moment into an instant.
With a flick of his wrist, the sword flew free of the flames. Azure gleams fluttered around it; its body was supple and radiant, its tip slightly blunt, yet its edge thin as a cicada's wing. A gentle yet razor-sharp azure radiance flowed across its entire length.
Awooo—awooo—awooo—!
The demonic dragon roared fiercely without pause, and the entire sky collapsed with it. Space peeled away and shattered in great swathes like a glazed curtain wall, cracking sounds unceasingly heard.
Su Yang stood unmoving atop the cliff, his expression calm. Only the light in the depths of his eyes flickered and dimmed, as though thunder lurked within. He raised his sword and pointed it forward. His body had not moved, but the sword had already gone ahead—an azure rainbow tore through the void in a slash!
Where the sword light swept, time froze. Flying birds hung motionless, wisps of cloud solidified, even the wind congealing into translucent ice crystals.
The blade cleaved into the void. There was no earth-shaking loud noise, only a deathly silence of annihilation—space was forcibly plowed open into