Chu Ge thought anyone who went after Qiu Qiu was like an old man hanging himself because he had lived too long. He was not worried at all.
In reality, however, Qiu Wuji's fight was harder than his.
He countered his opponent far too completely. The ability his opponent took pride in, which could reduce ninety-nine percent of his enemies to useless trash, was essentially meaningless against him. As for fighting skills, how could the man compare with someone who had trained in a world of immortals? It was, of course, a complete rout.
Qiu Wuji, on the other hand, had no such countering advantage. Hers was a clash of raw strength.
And this mysterious sonic attacker was by no means weak. If they were, how could their sound waves have spiraled against Qiu Wuji's counterattack, holding it in check as they swept into the clouds?
Her opponent was clearly an Esper deeply versed in this field. Their control over sound and its power had already reached an utterly terrifying level. She did not even know where they were, yet their control of the sound waves had crossed an unknown distance through space and time, shaking space itself.
If Qiu Wuji had been a cultivator of the Sound Dao, she could have broken sound with sound. But she was a cultivator of the Sword Dao.
Then she would break it with a sword!
What if she did not know where to direct her sword?
There was no need to attack. Swords could sing, too.
Whoosh, whoosh, whoosh!
Countless phantom divine swords suddenly appeared around the wind dragon formed by the churning sound waves, circling with the wind. The sword shadows trembled, as though weaving the Yellow Bell and Great Pitch Pipes through the air, with thunder echoing around them.
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