He had thought the power of his second-tier Soulguard Armament would be enough to crush Yun Che easily. He had never expected his opponent to withstand it, let alone look far more at ease than he did.
Yun Che did not answer. He merely raised the silver-purple sword in his hand slowly, pointing its tip straight at Ye Zilong.
Gold and blue patterns flowed across the blade, and the pressure of the Great Dao it radiated sent a shudder through Ye Zilong's heart.
"As expected of a top player from the Second World, you do have reason to be proud. Now, take a strike from me."
"That One Sword, Morning and Evening Sea!"
As this sword strike emerged, only two ultimate sights seemed to remain between heaven and earth: the surging morning tide and the fathomless evening tide.
The silver-purple sword sliced through the void. It carried no earth-shaking sword force, yet it drew upon the moisture and the power of space and time within ten thousand miles.
Where its tip pointed, space rippled like water. The void ahead twisted and folded eerily, as though becoming a boundless, vast ocean.
This "ocean" did not truly exist. It was condensed from Yun Che's supreme comprehension of the Great Daos of time and tides. Every ripple contained the power of the cycle of "birth at dawn and death at dusk," and every drop of "seawater" bore the weight of the years in the "succession of morning and evening."
Ye Zilong's pupils abruptly contracted. Beneath that seemingly calm "sea," he felt a more terrifying sense of suffocation than from "God-Imprisoning World Annihilation." It was a power of fate that could not be resisted, one that could only sweep him along until he finally fell into silence.
He wanted to retreat, but found that