The sun rose in the southeast, and a new day began.
Zhang Yang also began his daily farming—no, his daily sword-practice routine—
"Ninefold Mountain!"
"Thousand-Layered Cloud!"
"East-Flowing Water!"
He unleashed the three sword forms recklessly. Sword qi surged, and their might was peerless!
Practicing the sword was actually an extremely expensive pursuit for the wealthy.
Take the three sword forms Zhang Yang was practicing. It was not as though one could simply hold a wooden stick, wave it around in a few patterns, and then suddenly achieve enlightenment, breaking through one's confusion in a flash.
For starters, a sword form was not a technique.
It was even less any kind of swordsmanship recognized by the mundane world.
It was a method of reorganizing power with an extremely high utilization rate: natal spiritual qi served as the power source, which was doubled and layered through the sword core and sword intent before finally erupting.
Zhang Yang made an unreliable calculation. The three sword forms he unleashed could create a vacuum zone devoid of people and objects within five seconds. For example, at that moment, every stone within a radius of five hundred meters had been reduced to dust, then suppressed by the sword forms, creating a scene where the azure sky stood three meters above the ground.
Furthermore, under the radiation—or rather, the slaughter—of the sword qi, all the soil ten meters deep within a radius of one thousand meters had lost its vitality.
No plants would grow there for the next few decades. Even tiny insects would be absent. The sword qi remaining in the soil was the finest pesticide.
If anyone lived there, there was a high chance they would become infertile or have children born with terrible diseases.
"Cultivators really are terrifying, and this humble one happens to