Before he could finish speaking, a long sword appeared in Wang Xian's hand.
Its blade was like a pool of autumn water, gleaming with a cool light in the void.
The moment the sword was in his hand, his pounding heart sank into a deep pool. The blade filtered away all his confusion, bewilderment, and fear, leaving only clear serenity.
His entire bearing changed in an instant. The helpless uncertainty he'd shown moments ago gave way to calm assurance, as if the sword were everything to him.
A flicker of surprise crossed Dongfang Yun's eyes.
The change had come too quickly. Even back then, when the young Wang Xian had stood with sword in hand on Azure Cloud Mountain, his sword intent had never been so perfectly in harmony with him—
It was the most primal resonance between a man and his sword, freed from the constraints of technique.
"Not bad," Dongfang Yun murmured.
Before the words had faded, his figure had already become like smoke and mist. In the instant before Wang Xian noticed, he turned into a barely perceptible breeze and quietly descended upon Wang Xian's Divine Sea.
It was the deepest realm of consciousness.
At that moment, Dongfang Yun seemed to tread across a vast expanse of emerald waves. Each step sent ripples spreading outward, as if he were listening to the echoes of every thought in the depths of this Divine Sea.
"Show me your swordsmanship."
Dongfang Yun's voice rang directly through the Divine Sea, calm yet impossible to refuse.
At his words, Wang Xian froze.
He instinctively turned his wrist and assumed a starting stance—but what came next?
How should he thrust the sword? Along which meridians should he channel his true qi? His mind was utterly blank.
No.
This blankness wasn't natural. It was