White hair filled the sky.
Three hundred versions of himself, in three hundred poses.
Some stood sideways, some with their backs turned, some with their sword tips angled downward, some with their hands behind their backs...
They were all "classic poses" he had practiced before mirrors, rehearsed before empty air, and polished countless times before massive boulders.
Even the tear mole at the corner of each eye was identical to his own.
And the real kicker was that they fucking shared their vision!
Song Chi was dumbfounded.
He had never known before...
That his ass was so white.
So this was what watching himself strike poses from a third-person view felt like.
With clothes on, it had been elegance, style, the bearing unique to Latecoming Sword.
Now...
It was idiocy.
That's me?!
That's fucking me?!
Song Chi had no idea how these three hundred clones had appeared.
He did not even know what this sword was called.
But since he had begun cultivating, from fighting his way from the Eastern Region to Central Province, from ascending from the Lower Realm to the Immortal Realm...
He had never wanted to die this badly.
His shame reached its peak at that moment.
Then shame turned into anger.
He jerked his head up.
His sword pointed straight at Elder Green Pine, his voice even louder than before:
"You bunch of..."
"Animals!!!"
The onlookers: "...?"
We're animals?
You're the one with your fucking ass hanging out!
After that bellowed curse, Song Chi had vented some of his shame and recovered a little reason.
He looked down at the pale-gold sword in his hand.
Its blade was almost transparent, as light as a ray of light.
A name surfaced from the depths of his Sea of Consciousness.
"...Startling Swan."
He murmured it aloud.
The blade