Above the Sea of Clouds.
Qiongxiao sat cross-legged, the Mystic Origin Immortal-Slaying Sword laid across her knees, its blade humming softly from time to time.
The scenes of her two exchanges with Tongtian replayed again and again within her primordial spirit.
In their first clash, she had already compressed the power of her strike to its utmost limit, yet a slight turn of the Qingping Sword had shed most of its edge layer by layer along the junctions of space, the sword's spine, and Dharma Power.
The second strike had been even purer.
Qiongxiao had abandoned her many variations and concentrated all her power at a single point, ultimately cutting through the trace of Great Luo Sword Dao that Tongtian had attached to the Qingping Sword.
But she knew full well.
The true gap remained immense.
The Sage's command of the Sword Dao was precise beyond anything she had previously imagined.
Often, before their swords even met, Tongtian already knew where her power would land next.
It was a peculiar feeling.
As though what she held in her hand was a sword.
But what Tongtian saw was the entire trajectory of the Sword Dao in motion.
Qiongxiao gently closed her eyes, and the distracting thoughts within her primordial spirit gradually faded.
"Whatever you see, cut it..."
She murmured the words once.
The Mystic Origin Immortal-Slaying Sword trembled faintly in response.
At first, what she had seen within the sword was sharpness, power, and space.
As she continued to dissect the scenes of that battle, things that had once been hazy slowly became clear within her primordial spirit.
Why Dharma Power could adhere to a sword's edge.
Why sword intent could lock onto a target.
And once space split open, what allowed the rift to keep spreading in the direction she