The last time, Meng Zhao had fought Gebhu Dharma King with all his heart and broken through in battle. Today, it was Lin You's turn.
Yet the outcomes were different. Meng Zhao's talent and potential were limitless; he had only lagged behind Gebhu Dharma King because of his cultivation. Once he broke through, he made up his final shortcoming. His qi had gained spirit, surpassing that great expert of the Pudu Cult.
Lin You was different. The gap between him and Meng Zhao lay in every aspect, not merely in his lack of skill in the sword.
Still, he was now at the very peak of his life. In the midst of crossing blades with the Dragon King, he comprehended the sword principles the Pudu Cult Master had imparted to him, and joy surged through his heart.
The stirrings in his heart burst like thunder, yet the force in his hand was infinitely gentle and graceful, like mountains winding around water, endlessly entwined.
This time, the force he used with his sword was gentle, while the intent behind it was hard. The conception of hardness and softness rose instantly to a new level, as though yin and yang had joined and the taiji wheel turned. It seemed less imposing than his first sword, yet it was far more troublesome.
But Lin You faced Meng Zhao, a man whose heels he could never hope to glimpse even if he spent his entire life pursuing him.
Seeing the nearly shattered sword blade bound and joined once more by countless threads of supremely gentle Sword Qi, tracing out ripples as it stabbed toward him again, Meng Zhao changed the fingers of his right hand held before him.
Again, he curled and clasped his other three fingers, while tightly pressing his index and middle