In a courtyard, a silver-haired young woman sat meditating with her eyes closed. Before her, eighteen longswords were neatly arranged.
WHOOSH—
A gentle breeze swept by, carrying a few withered leaves past her.
The next moment, the eighteen longswords in front of Qing Yueqiu began to tremble in mid-air. She gently lifted a finger, and six of the longswords swam into the sky, as agile as a school of fish.
Then, she raised a second finger. Another six longswords took flight, falling into an orderly formation behind the first set of flying swords.
Soon, all eighteen longswords were airborne, forming a dense and flexible sword array like a school of sardines. The formidable, sweeping sword qi shredded the falling snow and made the air shriek.
If any of the Sword Cultivator Elders from the Xuanyuan Dao Sect had witnessed this, their jaws would have dropped in shock.
