In a heartbeat, the sword seemed able to drag a person into mountains of corpses and seas of blood. Before they even thought to resist, it would kill them and make them just another inconspicuous vengeful spirit trapped within its blade!
But that depended on who its opponent was. And what sort of man was Tang Changsheng?
He had ventured into the Netherworld more times than he could count. The enemies he had personally killed—though it might be an exaggeration to say so—were enough to make mountains of corpses and seas of blood.
Why would he fear a mere sword?
In an instant, a halo of shifting, uncanny light flared around Tang Changsheng. The Primordial Magnetic Dharma Realm had activated.
The sword gave a mournful cry and, defying Shao Jun's command, began to resist.
When experts crossed blows, the slightest lapse could mean defeat. Shao Jun had exposed far more than a slight opening.
Before Shao Jun could understand what had happened, he had fallen into the Primordial Magnetic Dharma Realm.
He felt as though he had plunged into a river seething with hidden currents. Countless undertows tore at him, nearly ripping his entire body apart.
Even with four ancestral bloodlines awakened, powerful as he was, his insides churned and he spat out mouthful after mouthful of blood.
If Shao Jun had ever used a washing machine, he would have described the inside of the Primordial Magnetic Dharma Realm as one—specifically, a front-loader.
At the critical moment, Shao Jun roared and used the skill that could save his life. His pupils suddenly narrowed into vertical slits and turned golden. More terrifying still, his skin rapidly hardened into scales, and his whole frame swelled. His physical body grew at least ten times stronger. He actually meant to withstand Tang Changsheng's Primordial