Meng Zhao nodded and paced over to Old Blade Zhao. His gaze was profound, violet and black intertwining in his eyes. Old Blade Zhao's bones, bloodline, and even deeper potential seemed laid bare before him.
Before Old Blade Zhao could react, Meng Zhao suddenly struck, pressing a palm onto the Baihui acupoint atop his head. Billowing true qi poured down like a cascading waterfall, vast and endless, its force rising and falling as it surged like the sea.
The purpose of this true qi was neither to empower him through the crown nor to impart cultivation. Instead, it transformed into fine, intricate threads that linked together Old Blade Zhao's meridians, then enhanced the potential and latent capacity of his body from the inside out, raising his upper limit in turn.
If it had to be described as something, it was probably like a miraculous elixir.
The enhancement of his physical body was one thing, but what sent Old Blade Zhao into greater rapture was that, as Meng Zhao's palm settled upon the Baihui acupoint atop his head, streams of profound and exquisite intent also flooded into his mind, into his Sea of Consciousness.
A grim, snow-white longsaber, held by no hand, yet moved with perfect freedom. Every stroke and every stance, in Old Blade Zhao's mind's eye, approached perfection. No matter how he exhausted every effort and racked his brains, he could not conceive of a way to break them.
His Spiritual Wisdom was insufficient for him to learn the saber techniques within Meng Zhao's Martial Dao intent. Yet, drawing inferences from one instance to another, he used the flash of inspiration stirred by the wooden saber earlier to continuously refine, perfect, and elevate the Tiger Roar Divine Saber he had learned into another realm.
The reason Old Blade Zhao