"How is this possible?"
Yuan Zhou looked up at Ye Lin, his eyes filled with shock.
The three of them—without exaggeration, any one of them alone could trade blows with Long Aotian on equal footing.
If the three of them joined forces, even Long Aotian would have to die.
They had originally thought they would make quick work of this guy.
Yet after fighting for so long, not only had they failed to deal with him, all three of them had been injured instead.
This was a little too unreal, wasn't it?
Ye Lin sheathed his sword, its tip hanging downward toward the void below.
His breathing remained steady, and there was not even a drop of sweat on his forehead.
Yuan Zhou's dozens of eyes all widened, their pupils contracting violently.
"What sword technique is this?"
Bone Slayer suddenly asked.
"The sword technique has no name. It is merely a sword."
"Just one sword, enough to break ten thousand arts and sever ten thousand things."
Ye Lin's voice was soft, as though he were merely stating a fact.
At those words, Bone Slayer fell silent.
Yuan Zhou in the middle also fell silent.
His dozens of eyes stared at Ye Lin, as if reassessing this opponent.
"You're very strong—far stronger than we expected."
After a moment, Yuan Zhou spoke.
"However..."
"It's still not enough."
The instant his words fell, dozens of his eyes simultaneously shot out black beams.
This time, it was neither one beam nor dozens, but hundreds, thousands.
Black beams surged madly from his eyes, spreading in every direction like a black tide and shrouding the entire battlefield in darkness.
Within the darkness, Ye Lin could not see anything.
There was no light, no shadow—not even his own hand.
This was not ordinary darkness.
It was a