"What a bizarre power. Was it an illusion technique, a spatial art, or perhaps the strongest art of all—time?"
Bei Tangsu's brows were drawn tightly together, unprecedented gravity written across his pale face.
He had cultivated divine essence and steeped himself in the laws within the Jingqing Demonic Saber, his demonic power towering to the heavens. Yet when he had been about to kill Xue Zihou, the hazy sensation, the dislocation and distortion, had been impossible for even him to unravel.
Did the Divine Saber Hall possess such an expert?
Or rather, even if there truly was someone capable of crushing him, it still seemed unrealistic for them to wield such unfathomably bizarre power.
A saber wielder was, in the end, a saber wielder. The pursuit of edge, ferocity, and strength was paramount. Certainly, there were those who expounded the Dao through the saber, but as far as he knew, the Divine Saber Hall had no one with a similar power.
"Xue Zihou only struts about in the Divine Saber Hall by relying on his father's prestige. I fear the source of the power on him must still trace back to the Purple Lightning Saber Lord. Perhaps it was an old friend of the Purple Lightning Saber Lord?"
Bei Tangsu's mind raced. He did not believe Xue Zihou had the fortune to obtain the protection of such a formidable expert. More likely, it was the Purple Lightning Saber Lord's network. Given the Purple Lightning Saber Lord's character, cultivation, and potential, even more extraordinary methods would be understandable.
Bei Tangsu's body flickered, and he appeared above the center of the enormous crater, standing suspended in the air as though riding the wind. He extended a finger, seemingly wishing to touch that power from moments ago. In his mind, he continuously recalled