CLANG—
The Cloud Splitting Sword left its sheath. Its dark cyan blade gleamed with a restrained light in the twilight.
Fang Han thrust his sword.
The gleam of the sword was like a silk thread, tracing a faint, almost invisible arc through the twilight.
However, the moment he thrust the sword, a faint ripple appeared in the air. It was barely there, yet it was more solid and lasted longer than before.
In Fang Han's mind, the principles of the Sky-Splitting Sword Technique slowly flowed.
The transformations of the Sword Techniques and the methods of circulating Inner Qi, all of which he knew by heart, now seemed to flow a bit more smoothly as he mentally rehearsed them.
The feeling of smoothness was not intense, almost imperceptible, but it was definitely real.
He struck with his sword again.
One strike, two strikes, three strikes...
