The instant the light arrived, Daoist Zhen shuddered in alarm. As his consciousness trembled, his magical power had already cycled through a defensive technique. Whenever this technique faced an external assault, it transferred all damage onto the Primordial Spirit. Though the Primordial Spirit might scatter as a result, his own body would remain unharmed.
Yet as the sword light swept past, it seemed only to brush across a streak of radiance. Aside from that flash of brightness, he felt no abnormality whatsoever.
The moment he noticed this, his mind abruptly cleared. He discovered that he had been standing where he was all along, while the fleet outside the Ring Hall continued onward in perfect order. The armored soldiers nearby stood solemnly at attention, the boatmasters diligently steered the flying vessels, and the attendants occasionally looked up to record everything they saw along the route.
It appeared that nothing had happened at all.
Then what had just occurred? Could that scene he had witnessed have been some future sight he had sensed?
No!
Perhaps he was still inside an illusion at this very moment!
That sword strike had been incomparably clear. Its fierce sword intent, omnipresent and reaching everywhere, truly carried a trace of divine mystery. It was absolutely not something that could be fabricated from nothing. If so, perhaps he had not escaped it at all, but had merely been blinded by the illusion...
Sure enough, the instant that thought arose, he felt an incomparably real and penetrating gaze shine from between his brows into his mind. Under the erosion of that light, his spirit and awareness continually sank into silent darkness. In his daze, he could still hear earth-shaking explosions rumbling without end beside his ears.
At this moment, within the Ring Hall's main cabin, the attendants and Creation