The Swordswoman's Final Sword

"Hmm?"

Christina noticed it too.

The cold seeped in soundlessly, yet it was the deadliest of all.

When Christina swung her sword aside to parry Lin Qingyan's ice blade, she abruptly retreated from the battlefield. Blazing golden vitality erupted around her, yet she still could not erase the sluggishness creeping through her fingertips. It was not muscle fatigue, nor was it a decline in speed—it was the speed of her thoughts... slowing down!

"Have you noticed?" Lin Qingyan's ice wings trembled, her figure trailing seven afterimages through the air. Every single one swung a sword at the same time. "My extreme-cold domain will freeze your speed, your senses, and the vitality of your soul, until—"

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Swish!

The seven afterimages slashed down simultaneously from seven directions.

Christina did not retreat.

She closed her eyes. The holy sword in her hand, [Far Shore of Glory], lit up with a gentle golden radiance. It was not an explosive light, but one serene as the dawn—an SS-rank holy sword's true power did not lie in destruction, but in "severing all that was fabricated."

"—Holy Sword Liberation."

A pillar of golden light shot into the sky, yet it did not strike at Lin Qingyan. Instead, it plunged vertically into the earth.

With Christina at its center, all cold within a three-hundred-meter radius was instantly dispelled. The ice crystals condensed in the air melted away beneath the golden light, like snow beneath the morning sun.

This was the first authority of an SS-rank holy sword:

[Truth Liberation]—dispel all phenomena unfavorable to oneself.

Six of the seven afterimages vanished within the golden light. Only the true body remained, sword in hand as she thrust forward.

"Beautiful." Lin Qingyan praised her sincerely, though her