Each flower holds a world; as the light of the petals and leaves shimmered, it seemed to project the true form of Bazhun'an's sword, clearly embodying it as a sheath and lifting it above the head.
A sword rises.
The sword body inches out of the sheath, the sword power ascends to great heights.
This commotion startled all ancestral gods and venerable extremes across spacetime, yet none dared speak, retreating in panic; those unable to evade were forced to their knees by the pressure.
Those who bowed and retreated under this sword contributed to its power, making its edge sharper and killing intent more pronounced, until it became completely uncontrollable.
A leaf flew past, a sword was sacrificed.
Wherever it passed, Daoist methods bowed low, destiny submitted, none dared surpass this sword leaf.
The only one facing the sword directly was Saint Xin!
Only Saint Xin was completely locked on, with no escape or avoidance!
No—
