The ice crystal in Jingliu's hand solidified into a longsword.
The sword gleamed with a faint cold light, like holding a sliver of moonlight.
The sword was three feet seven inches long, light as a feather, yet heavy as the stars.
This was the pinnacle of swordsmanship!
Yanqing's breath hitched when he saw this scene.
It was a realm he had always pursued but could never reach, now vividly displayed before his eyes.
However, this was merely the beginning.
Twelve ice crystal flying swords silently appeared, hovering behind Jingliu, their tips all aimed at Phainon, emanating an bone-chilling cold.
One flying sword was proof of genius.
He, Yanqing, could control six, and was hailed as a rare prodigy of the Luofu.
But this woman before him, with a casual flick of her wrist, summoned twelve!
For the first time since he was called a genius swordsman, Yanqing felt the despair of a "chasm."
However, Yanqing was still too young; the real blow had only just landed.
Facing this sword array, Phainon merely waved his hand forward casually.
The shadows behind him writhed, and twelve equally dark phantoms emerged.
Ah?!
Yanqing's mind buzzed, then went blank.
The person in the black robe could summon so many clones?!
Only now did he belatedly realize that if the opponent had truly intended to kill, he would have long since sacrificed himself for the Xianzhou!
Although the two had not truly clashed, the invisible aura of confrontation had already drawn an insurmountable chasm before him.
This battle had completely surpassed his level!
The next moment, time resumed their flow.
They moved!
The twelve phantoms and twelve ice crystal flying swords, at the same instant, transformed into two torrents of black and white, colliding violently!
There was no deafening roar, only the sounds of shattering and scorching.
Ice shards and fragments of shadow danced wildly in the air; each clash exploded into a swirling cloud of steam.
The ground was torn by sword qi and scorch marks, the hard flagstones cracking inch by inch.
Nearby containers, affected by the energy, half were covered in grotesque frost, while the other half were burnt molten red.
At the center of the storm, the two main bodies had become two afterimages impossible to catch with the naked eye.
Yanqing could only see two streaks of light, one black and one white, frantically intertwining and colliding.
Flashes of blades!
Shadows of swords!
Every flicker was accompanied by a shriek!
He couldn't discern their movements at all, only barely inferring the trajectory of the battle from the lingering sword intent.
Fast, too fast!
Just then!
Hiss—
A soft sound.
All afterimages and flying swords suddenly vanished.
Yanqing finally saw Jingliu's ice crystal longsword cleanly piercing Phainon's chest.
Is... is it over?
Yanqing's mind went blank.
The suffocatingly powerful black-robed man was defeated just like that?
How terrifying was Jingliu's strength?
What exactly happened to the Luofu?
But the next moment, that unforgettable laughter rang out again.
"Hehehehe..."
Phainon looked down at the ice sword piercing his chest, and instead of pain, he laughed even more maniacally.
He reached out, ignoring the sharp edge capable of freezing metal and stone, and grabbed the blade of the ice sword!
Sizzle—
A piercing screech erupted, white smoke mixed with ice shards and sparks shot skyward!
Where Phainon's palm met the blade, it twisted and deformed from the intense heat.
A crack finally appeared on Jingliu's cold face.
She felt an unimaginable heat wildly transmitting through the sword!
This could only mean one thing.
The heat within the black-robed man before her far exceeded her imagination!
"Crack!"
With a crisp sound, the indestructible ice crystal longsword was melted by Phainon with his bare hands!
Both retreated simultaneously.
Phainon acted as if nothing had happened, allowing the broken half-sword to remain in his body.
There was no bleeding from the wound; only the broken blade slowly melted in the high temperature of his chest, turning into a wisp of smoke and evaporating completely.
Jingliu lowered her gaze, looking at the sword hilt remaining in her hand; her wrist moved slightly, and a new blade grew out from the break, their cold light still present.
Yanqing, watching from the side, was terrified, subconsciously muttering to himself.
"One fights recklessly, and the other fights without regard for his life!"
"Your madness is even greater than that of the Mara-Struck." Jingliu's voice was clear and cold, but held a hint of solemnity, "It reminds me of an old acquaintance. Both are pitiful people bound by karma, imprisoned by the past."
"I don't live in the past." Phainon responded calmly, "I just... cannot reach tomorrow."
Jingliu's gaze pierced through the black veil, looking directly into Phainon's soul.
"Though your madness resembles the Mara-Struck, their root cause is not entirely the same."
"You are in more pain than I am... You are already numb with pain!"
"And your sword is the best proof..."
As her voice fell.
In Yanqing's sight, Jingliu slowly raised her hand and untied the black silk ribbon that bound her eyes.
The ribbon drifted down, revealing a pair of crimson eyes.
Just meeting her gaze, Yanqing felt a killing intent chill him to the bone!
"This is my last sword."
Jingliu's voice carried a hint of madness on the verge of losing control.
"Can you take it?"
However, Phainon moved.
He didn't face the sword intent; instead, with a leisurely stroll, he calmly... walked towards Yanqing, who was already terrified and stunned.
He came to the young man's side, patted his shoulder, and said flatly:
"Had enough watching? You take it!"