Sword Like Reflecting Water, News of Becoming a Live-in Son-in-Law, the Evil Dragon in His Heart

This sword intent had been condensed from the Primordial Spirit, and the longsword in its hand was likewise formed from the Primordial Spirit, yet it was as tangible as a real object, its blade gleaming with biting cold.

The longsword Madam Gongsun had gifted you, "Dragon Shadow," was indeed a fine sword. It was neither too heavy nor too light in your hand, its hilt fitted your palm as though it had been made just for you.

The sword-intent figure's long sleeves fluttered. Upon the bluestone slabs beneath the sun, two opposing silhouettes were cast—one solid, one insubstantial.

You did not rush to draw your sword. You merely nudged the hilt with your thumb, your right hand gripping the scabbard while your left hung naturally at your side.

"Clang—"

The longsword streaked through the air like a startled swan, its sword light swift as lightning as it shot straight for the other's throat. Yet the sword-intent figure lightly turned its wrist, deftly bringing its blade across to block. Sparks flew in all directions, and the ring of clashing swords was crisp and clear.

You had racked your brains over this sword-drawing technique, requiring many days to complete it, yet the sword-intent figure had effortlessly neutralized it, as though everything lay within its grasp.

The two figures crossed paths, sword light like lightning and blade shadows like wind. Your longsword swept sideways, your attacks falling like dense rain, while the sword-intent figure drifted as lightly as willow catkins. Its blade brushed past you time and again, yet could not be harmed in the slightest.

Suddenly, your body paused, and your sword momentum abruptly changed. Your longsword danced, transforming into sword shadows that filled the sky, like a torrential downpour sweeping through the surroundings. Yet the sword-intent figure was like a ghost,