When Zheng Fan finally regained the ability to move, he had become a hulking man five meters tall. He had never learned any golden-body cultivation techniques, but his cultivation alone was enough to alter his size. Right now, however, his body had been stretched by the immense energy inside it. Beneath his swollen muscles, he pushed his cultivation technique to its limits, not daring to let either the greater or lesser circulation pause for even a moment, lest his body explode.
Holding the Night Dawn Sword felt like holding a dagger. This situation had never been considered when the Night Dawn Sword was forged. If not for his transmigration, Zheng Fan would never have needed to face a true immortal level opponent while he was still weak.
Zheng Fan gazed reverently at the Night Dawn Sword in his hand. Just as Frost Swordsmanship was only suited to the mortal realm, the sword technique he was about to use could only be fully executed in the first realm. "Flying Immortal Sword Art! A sword from the west, flying from beyond the heavens!" He used a spoken incantation to compensate for his shortcomings, then turned into a streak of light and slammed into Myotismon.
This sword strike neither pierced the eyes nor struck below the belt. It crashed into Myotismon head-on. Before Zheng Fan attacked, he had been enormous compared to an ordinary person, yet smaller than a single one of Myotismon's fingers. As the Flying Immortal Sword Art unfolded, Zheng Fan became the core of a world. Sand, stones, and soil, which had languished unappreciated in the greater world, now surged toward the smaller world's pull and clustered tightly around him. Under the influence of the law of time, even the sand and soil acquired a history of their own. Within