Murong Zhuangning slashed her Long Sword forward.
There was nothing flashy about the strike, no variation at all. It was a simple downward cut.
Yet within it lay every sword art she had cultivated in her lifetime, everything she understood about the sword, and all her faith in the sword as her eternity.
A trace of resolve flashed through her eyes.
As though this one strike were the culmination of her entire life.
Purple sword light erupted from the tip of her blade. Only three feet long, it was condensed to the utmost, like a bolt of purple lightning frozen in space and time.
Where the sword light passed, space was sliced clean through, time was severed, and causal lines were shattered.
The sword light met the deep-blue vortex, and the two ultimate forces collided at the center of the Arena.
There was no sound.
No explosion.
No light.
For an instant, the entire Arena sank into absolute silence and darkness.
Then a pillar of purple light shot skyward from the point of impact, staining the heavens above the Arena deep violet.
A pillar of deep-blue light shot skyward after it.
It intertwined with the purple pillar, forming a column of purple and blue that pierced straight into the heavens.
Within the column, the purple sword light and deep-blue vortex devoured and annihilated each other in a frenzy. Both forces burned, both sacrificed themselves, both spent their last reserves of strength.
The column was so immense it seemed ready to punch a hole through the heavens.
The protective formation around the Arena flickered wildly under its impact, as though it might shatter at any moment.
Murong Zhuangning stood within the column, her face pale as paper. Cracks covered her purple dress, and her dark hair had withered like dry grass.