"Every genius could do what others could not. Besides, your swordsmanship was far from flawless. A few minor flaws, a few strengths and weaknesses—what was there to make such a fuss about?"
Yan Congke nodded, but his expression abruptly changed.
"You certainly had a big mouth. You received my swordsmanship inheritance, yet you still picked it apart and acted so high and mighty. I'd like to weigh you up and see just what standard you truly possess!"
The word "what" had barely left his lips before it scattered into the night wind. With a resounding clang, a sword cry rang throughout the courtyard, shaking the void and sending ripples spreading out. Even the plants climbing the courtyard walls swayed from side to side in fright.
A fierce, savage streak of sword light, as though born from nothingness, stabbed toward Meng Zhao.
This sword used precisely the Soaring Heavens Sword technique borne by the chaotic sword marks on that thick wall.
Yet compared with the sword marks left behind by mere practice, this sword was as different as heaven and earth.
It was fast—like a bolt of lightning. The sword that split the air seemed to travel through time and space; the instant its light appeared, it had already reached its opponent's eyes.
More extraordinary still, speed was only one aspect of the sword. It concealed thirteen transformations of Sword Moves, a resolute sword that fused transformation, speed, and glory into one.
The burst of power within the sword was like qi surging into the clouds—once unleashed, it could not be contained.
Yet, just as Meng Zhao had said, the Sword Intent within it was impure. Beyond its lofty ascent into the heavens, it carried an added measure of savage killing intent. This stemmed from Yan Congke's own temperament. It appeared