Murong Longtu's swordplay was so unrestrained and wild, stirring up a tempest of mystical weapons. Guan Yi, as composed as a Military School's Great General commanding his troops, held his weapon, flinging one mystical weapon after another into the air with the most ancient and precise martial maneuvers, his demeanor cold and exacting.
He utilized every ounce of strength, every surge of power to its purest extreme.
Meanwhile, the elder on the other side was wildly unrestrained, like a madman who had drunk his fill, his brushstrokes bold and unrestrained as he wrote, with no fixed form in his martial style, utterly different from the other's.
The Sword Madman's swords scattered everywhere.
In the end, fifty-seven mystical weapons crisscrossed the skies, swirling and howling with overwhelming momentum. The Sword Madman paced through the void, casually grabbing a sword to execute a sword move, seemingly effortless, yet each was a unique, unparalleled sword technique.
