Qingyun Sect.
The back mountain of Heaven-Piercing Peak.
Under Ye Xuan's gaze,
the air of desolation surrounding the old man vanished in an instant.
The frail old man who had spent two hundred years sweeping the Ancestral Hall, watching the world's warmth and cruelty, was gone.
In his place stood a sword.
A peerless weapon, sheathed for two hundred years, now drawn to pierce the very heavens.
The old man didn't use a sword.
Or rather,
at his level, grass, trees, bamboo, and stones could all become swords.
Even the bamboo broom he used to sweep away leaves could become a weapon capable of slaying all Gods and Demons.
He simply raised two fingers.
His fingers together, like a sword.
"Watch closely."
The old man's voice was quiet,
yet it rolled like thunder, exploding deep within Ye Xuan's mind.
There was no elaborate opening flourish.
The old man simply took one step forward.
As his foot touched the ground,
it was as if all the air in the back mountain had been sucked away.
An utterly savage, unstoppable force erupted.
It wasn't simply the crushing weight of spiritual power.
It was a will.
A resolve to strike with one sword and never turn back, even if the way ahead led to Nine Nether Hell or a host of gods and buddhas!
The heavens and earth changed color.
The clear sky seemed to dim in that instant.
Only the emerald light at the old man's fingertips remained, the sole point of brilliance between heaven and earth.
"Slay!"
The word left his lips.
The emerald light surged, transforming into a terrifying sword aura a hundred yards long. With a shrill howl, it shot straight into the sky.
There was no retreat.
No defense.
This sword severed all his essence, energy, and spirit,