Sharp Sword Qi swirled around Song Qingxing, and his eyes, once like stagnant pools of water, now blazed with a brilliant light.
It was the brilliant edge of a Swordsman.
At the side, Song Qingxi covered her mouth in astonishment. It was the first time she had ever seen such a strong emotional fluctuation from Song Qingxing.
This change left her somewhat bewildered.
âHe still has strength to spare. It seems his talent is even greater than I imagined.â Watching Song Qingxingâs aura climb steadily higher, Song Changsheng grew even more surprised. âThis already exceeds the limits of the Qi Cultivation Stage.â
âYou have to remember, heâs only at the Qi Refining Ninth Layer right now. How powerful will he be when he breaks through to Qi Refining Great Perfection, or even condenses his Dao Foundation?â
âA Qi Cultivation practitioner battling a Foundation Establishment cultivator isnât just a legend after all. What a monster. Good thing Iâm no pushover myself.â
He watched Song Qingxing quietly, a powerful aura brewing within his own body. Even now, he had yet to use the power of the Foundation Establishment Stage. After all, he still had his pride.
For now, he had merely unleashed the full extent of the power he possessed back in his own Qi Cultivation Stage. He wanted to test Song Qingxingâs limits!
"You are the first opponent Iâve ever faced. You are very strong. If I donât use this technique, it will be difficult to defeat you."
Song Qingxing stared directly into Song Changshengâs eyes. Strands of Sword Qi, so dense they seemed tangible, coiled around the Three-foot Cyan Blade in his hand, causing the long sword to emit a series of high-pitched cries.
âHow rare. He actually said such a long sentence. And the meaning behind it is surprising, too.â
An indescribable feeling welled up inside Song Changsheng as he met his gaze.
But he showed no intention of responding, merely watching him faintly, broken sword in hand.
Song Qingxing also remained expressionless, but his figure began to turn illusory, rapidly fading away at a speed visible to the naked eye.
Only then did Song Qingxi, who had been right beside him, realize that it was merely an afterimage.
No one knew when he had moved, and no one knew where he was now. It was as if he had vanished into thin air.
But Song Changsheng knew. He was definitely somewhere nearby, searching for the perfect opportunity to deliver a fatal blow.
Song Changsheng slowly closed his eyes. His world instantly became pitch-black, yet it was still noisy. The chaotic sounds would interfere with his judgment.
So he shut off his sense of hearing. The sound of his own heartbeat vanished. The sound of Song Qingxiâs breathing vanished. The thundering RUMBLE of the waterfall vanished. The flutter of a butterflyâs wings vanished...
In that moment, his world dissolved into an empty void.
This was the first time he had ever faced the world in such a state.
SHINGâ
The nearly inaudible ring of a sword sounded out, seeming to come from the far horizon, yet also as if it were right beside him, surging toward Song Changsheng from all directions.
But he still didnât move, standing as motionless as a scarecrow in a rice paddy.
WHOOSHâ
Suddenly, a light breeze blew into this void-like world.
Song Changsheng slowly extended his left hand. He could feel the breeze as it brushed past his fingertipsâsoft and gentle, with a hint of coolness.
SHREEEâ
He abruptly raised the right hand that gripped his broken sword and slashed forward.
The pitch-black, empty world was torn open by his broken sword like a piece of burlap. A dazzling point of light bloomed within the tear, like the first ray of dawn breaking through the darkness, making one instinctively want to embrace it...
CLANGâ
The sound of metal colliding rang out as the broken sword in Song Changshengâs hand struck that brilliant light.
WHOOSHâ
The surrounding darkness receded like the tide. The world regained its color, and the cacophony of sounds returned.
Song Changsheng didnât know when he had opened his eyes. He calmly stared in front of him, where Song Qingxing, dressed in black martial attire, was only a few feet away, having thrust his sword at him.
Less than an inch from his heart, the tip of the sword was stopped dead by the broken sword Song Changsheng held horizontally across his chest, unable to advance any further.
For the first time in his life, a look of shock appeared in Song Qingxingâs eyes.
âHe blocked it... How did he do that?â
No one answered the question in his heart. He only saw a smile spread across his opponentâs face, revealing two rows of neat, white teeth. Song Changsheng formed his left hand into a sword-finger and gently swiped it toward his neck.
For the first time, Song Qingxing felt the aura of death, yet there was no fear in his heart, not even any superfluous emotion.
Only when a certain figure flashed through his mind did a faint ripple stir in his heart.
He didnât know what kind of feeling it was; it was an emotion he had never experienced before...
SWISHâ
The sword-finger gently swiped across his neck.
But death did not arrive as expected. Instead, a lock of hair from his temple drifted to the ground.
"This..."
He looked at his opponent, his eyes filled with confusion and doubtâemotions he had never had before, yet which seemed so frequent today.
Meeting his gaze, Song Changsheng tossed aside his broken sword and gave a faint nod. He said in a gentle voice, "You are quite good. You were just one inch away from piercing my heart.
But there was one thing you didnât do well. After discovering your sword was blocked, you shouldnât have just stood there stunned. You should have continued to attack, not just stand there waiting to be slaughtered like a block of wood. XiâEr was right to call you a Cold Blockhead."