Yet neither Xu Taiping nor Su Chan, who also knew this technique, came anywhere close to Lü Daoxuan himself in their mastery of these sword techniques.
When Lü Daoxuan performed this swordsmanship, he was like a master calligrapher: with brush and ink in hand, even dead drunk, he could write as though guided by the divine.
He truly embodied the true intent of these sword techniques-all swordsmanship under heaven, I can break.
"Gulp, gulp..."
After draining all the strong liquor in the gourd in one go, Lü Daoxuan grinned with satisfaction. Then, wiping his mouth, he strolled as though through a quiet courtyard among the seal-script characters, every stroke brimming with bold grandeur.
When he reached the middle, he raised his head as though admiring his own work and murmured to himself:
"After stepping through the Bronze Gate into this Netherdark Demon Grotto, I thought I would never be able to write anything decent again in this lifetime."
Here, Lü Daoxuan paused, reached back to scratch his back, then grinned with a chuckle. "Who would have thought that after sixty years, not only would I recover Ink Qilin, I would still be able to produce a fine piece of calligraphy."
"No, not fine."
"Better than when I was young!"
As he said "better," Lü Daoxuan's eyes were no longer clouded, but became as bright as a young man's.
And the instant his words fell, the seal-script characters floating around him.
Suddenly all burst apart.
Boom!
Amid the explosion, the countless scattered motes of white light made Lü Daoxuan's scar-covered body look especially towering.
But after those seal-script characters formed from sword qi burst apart, the dazzling mass of white light that had blocked the cave entrance abruptly dispersed.
What followed was a fierce wind mingled with the sound of chilling