A fishing rod, reeling in an ocean of waves.
Ma Xiangyu, with his reed-like body, was dumbfounded. Not just him, but the hundreds of people on the two ships all held their breath. A figure in blue robes stood serenely, holding a fishing rod, almost exuding the legendary aura of an Immortal.
Miao Zhiquiao's heart trembled. Her sect was originally just a small island by the East Sea. The most formidable elder in her sect only possessed the means of the Fifth Rank, capable of controlling qi over hundreds of miles and casually unleashing Sword Qi like a waterfall, which was already a dazzling extraordinary technique.
The legendary unparalleled martial artists roaming the Jianghu, capable of splitting the ground with Sword Qi over hundreds of feet and performing unbelievable feats like carrying mountains, were always taken by her as mere stories, exaggerated at best. She dismissed the tales of her elders about crisscrossing Sword Qi and thunderous heavens as mere obsessions of the old.
