"Hmph. As expected of a sect master, you've got some skill. You're not like those useless fools who couldn't withstand a single blow."
Sword Immortal Lingkong's lips curled into a faint smile.
Just now, facing the elders and chief disciples of the Feathering Sect, he had cut through them as easily as slicing melons and chopping vegetables. It had been satisfying, but honestly, a little dull.
At last, he had found a cultivator who could make him take things a little more seriously.
His expression finally lost its usual wooden cast.
He said, "Then, fellow cultivator, try receiving my second sword!"
The flying sword hovering before him shot through the air before his words had even faded.
The thrust was plain and unremarkable.
It was no rare, secret technique.
Just an ordinary sword-control art.
Yet Master Green Feather sensed an immense danger.
The flying sword was still more than ten zhang away, but he felt a piercing chill at the center of his brow, and an inexplicable premonition rose within him.
No matter how he dodged, he would not be able to avoid this sword.
Master Green Feather's lips twisted bitterly.
If a half-step Mahayana cultivator was already this difficult to handle, what would a true Mahayana cultivator be like?
And the Mist Moon Immortal Palace had two old monsters of that realm.
Thoughts flashed through his mind like lightning, but there was no time to dwell on them.
A roar of alarm rang in his ears.
"Senior Brother, watch out!"
"Dodge!"
Yet those voices seemed distant and indistinct.
The flying sword tore through the air with blinding speed and slammed into the Taiji Diagram blocking its path.
No tremendous crash rang out. Only a beam of spiritual light, bright as the blazing sun, spread out before him.
The light