Wang Qi felt as though he were holding the sun in his hand.
The power of the Heavenly Sword was the power of the sun—the process known on Earth as nuclear fusion.
Faint laws circulated across the crimson-gold sword embryo. The incomplete Tian Shang Jue controlled the range within which heat acted. Destructive heat was bound within this tiny sword embryo. But the moment Wang Qi removed those restraints, the terrifying shockwave would reshape the terrain like a tsunami.
And this power also fed back into Wang Qi, who had refined the sword embryo.
"Power is flowing through my body." Wang Qi marveled once again. "What terrifying power."
Although the Heavenly Sword felt very light in Wang Qi's hand, he knew that was only because spatial arts had vented its gravity into other dimensions and absorbed its inertia with spells. In truth, this sword was extraordinarily heavy.
How heavy, exactly? A secret.
Every strike of the Heavenly Sword would cause it to lose several grams of mass. That mass would become energy and spiritual power, turning into the most terrifying destructive force. Compared to the Heavenly Sword's own weight, such depletion was scarcely worth mentioning. Nurturing the Heavenly Sword was the process of allowing it to absorb mass once more.
That was pure destructive power.
There was no lock-on targeting function, no exquisite method for concealing one's aura, no defense, no healing. Every function had been stripped away, leaving behind only the purest power.
If an ancient master of arts like Zhen Chanzi heard this description of the magical artifact, his first reaction would probably be a scornful snort. This thing possessed no aesthetic beauty whatsoever. It was simply a blind colossal beast, all brute might and utterly unfit for practical use.
But anyone who truly wielded the Heavenly Sword