This sword strike was plain and unremarkable, without the slightest flourish.
Yet this very strike made Lu Chenchuan feel the threat of death.
The sense of time's accumulation within the Heaven-Slaying Sword-Drawing Art was too powerful. Only a sword cultivator like him—one who had lived for a long time—could understand just how many years of mastery this strike contained.
No, it could no longer be measured in years. It should be measured in epochs!
He seemed to see several epochs pass, with a figure repeating one motion every single day: the sword drawing slash before him.
His scalp went numb. Let alone practicing such an ordinary sword move for several epochs—even for one epoch, or a hundred million years—he could not devote himself wholly to practicing a single sword art.
The sword art before him was not profound, required no study, and did not even need practice.
Yet it was precisely this plain sword art that made him feel as though all his own sword moves were losing their color.
A phrase surfaced in his mind: the Great Dao was simplest at its extreme.
It was as though he had gained a moment of enlightenment. The sword art he had always been proudest of was incomparably intricate and abstruse, but at this moment, he cast aside its complexity and focused all his attention on unleashing a single move.
"Myriad Arts Return to One!"
Sword techniques appeared one after another behind him. They were the moves that had once made his name, each one terrifyingly powerful. Yet now, they were merely green leaves, serving as accompaniment to this sword strike and as the source supporting its power.
Whoosh! A massive Sword Qi condensed before him, and he slashed down with all his strength.
Judging by rank alone, this sword strike far