He swung his sword.
Then sheathed it.
It had been a single fluid motion.
There had been no unnecessary steps.
Simple and decisive to the extreme.
Having done so, Ling Wuyuan looked at the blade in his hand, its edge still sharp and not the least bit dulled. He was satisfied with the sword's durability, but even more satisfied with what he had felt in that very moment.
As he gently stroked the smooth, pristine blade, he could not help smiling and murmuring to himself, "What a wondrous feeling..."
To him, the changes that had just occurred were not merely like a progress bar that had been stuck at 99.999% for ages finally moving once more and reaching 100%. They also marked another sublimation of his very essence as a living being.
Perhaps it was some kind of incidental effect.
At this moment, he had not only successfully grasped many techniques.
His ability to wield power had also risen enormously.
Even his physical attributes, the nature of his true essence, and the strength of his abilities had all received a corresponding enhancement.
An epiphany in a single day, as though reborn—this was what it meant.
It was evolution in every aspect.
If, when he had raised the longsword in his hand before, the weight he actually felt had been somewhat like an ordinary person holding up a bottle of mineral water.
Then for him now, lifting that longsword was about as effortless as an ordinary person lifting an egg.
That was quite a tremendous change.
So by comparison.
The growth in his other aspects was merely less significant than his growth in technique.
If it were the changes in his other aspects.
Ling Wuyuan could describe them quite simply in multiples.
But as for the gap in technique.
Even he