At the center of the Sword Pool, dim gray light swirled, and the stars overhead seemed illusory, as though a single poke would burst them.
Above the gray-brown Dao Platform, thunderclaps rang out ceaselessly. Dharma Swords clashed, their clear, lingering notes like the bells of an ancient temple.
Countless savage sword scars had appeared across the already pitted ground. Blue robes fluttered as a silvery-white Dharma Sword darted about like a roaming dragon.
Many bloody holes had appeared on Liu Xingfang's body. The most dangerous lay only a finger's breadth above his qi sea, nearly costing him his life.
The Pool Spirit opposite him had also suffered numerous wounds, but its imposing presence still far surpassed Liu Xingfang's. Its Dharma Sword slashed toward him, denying him even a moment to catch his breath.
He had been unable to sense his master for some time. Suspecting that something had gone wrong within the Sword Pool, he grew uneasy.
The Pool Spirit's assault was ferocious. It could even unleash [Tribulation-Origin Swordfall], with power and variations identical to Liu Xingfang's own.
Its cultivation method, sword moves, and spells were exact copies of his, and it was in better condition to boot. How could he win?
With things changing now, the Sword Pool's teleportation probably won't work either. I might really die here.
In all his years of cultivation, it was this Pool Spirit that had truly driven him to the boundary between life and death. It knew every one of his moves, rendering them useless.
It was like fighting his own reflection, an intensely unpleasant feeling. His magical power and spiritual sense gradually ran dry, and he fell steadily into decline.
Once this Pool Spirit manifested, it became separate from me. It won't keep copying my current state.
After fighting it for so