Qingyi's sword sliced through the air, and with it, space itself split open.
Wherever the blade passed, it left behind an aura of myriad colors, cutting through and devouring everything in its path.
The primordial laws cleaved in two and collapsed.
Time. Sound. Sight. The very existence of matter.
Everything collapsed for a brief instant before being forcibly pushed back, the fabric of spacetime mending itself with violent urgency.
Qingyi froze at the end of the movement, his eyes widening slowly.
He could feel the tremors coming from outside.
That technique hadn't even been used for real. It had been merely a simulation in his sea of consciousness. How could it produce such a tremendous result?
As he reflected on its power, the sword in his hands finally shattered, its fragments dissipating like dust in the wind.
Only Ruxue would be capable of withstanding a technique this powerful.
