Once Bai Jingjing settled down, Pei Yuhang raised the Silent Sword high above his head.
In an instant, his white robes fluttered though there was no wind, and the surrounding grass bent low, pressed down by an invisible aura.
Qing Yueqiu and Yu Xiaoyan watched, holding their breath in concentration.
This was because their master—an existence revered as a Sword Immortal, who had made a name for himself in the Sword Dao of the modern Cultivation Realm—was about to command a legion of swords right before their eyes.
If they could glean even a sliver of insight from this spectacle, it would be enough to allow Qing Yueqiu and Yu Xiaoyan to advance much further on their path of the Sword Dao.
"Yueqiu, Xiaoyan, watch closely."
As Pei Yuhang spoke, he touched the tip of his sword to the ground beneath his feet.
WMMMM—
A low thrum from the sword rippled outward.
