Facing that heavy, powerful sword strike, Ye Lin stood where he was and did not dodge.
The black greatsword came down with incredible speed—so fast that most cultivators in the Third Heaven Quasi-Saint Realm would not even have time to blink.
Yet in Ye Lin's eyes, the sword's trajectory was as clear as a line etched into glass.
He saw every inch of its descent, every shift in its force, every hidden follow-up move contained within the faintest thread of sword intent.
At the very last instant before the greatsword touched his forehead, he raised his hand.
He held two fingers together like a sword and met the edge of the Black Sword with his fingertips.
At the moment his fingers touched the blade, there was no Heaven-Shaking crash, no surging shockwave—there was not even the slightest ripple.
Ye Lin's two fingers steadily clamped the Black Sword's blade, stopping it half an inch away, unable to advance another fraction.
Tu Shi's pupils abruptly contracted.
His greatsword, caught between two fingers, was like a clay ox sinking into the sea. All its force, all its sword intent, all its lingering power were swallowed cleanly by those two seemingly slender fingers.
More than that, he could clearly feel the Abyssal Sword Intent contained within his blade being suppressed, dismantled, and dissolved by something of a higher level—like ice meeting burning coals, silently melting into water.
"You..."
Tu Shi pulled back his sword and retreated, his figure flashing three times in succession before once more opening a distance of a hundred zhang.
He lowered his head and looked at the blade of the Black Sword in his hand.
Where those two fingers had clamped it, an exceedingly shallow fingerprint remained, as if a branding iron had lightly pressed against wood.
Tu Shi was