The sword light, as it once more approached the suction field, seemed to begin moving incomparably slowly, as if forming a perfect fan shape that slowly pressed toward Jiang Dali's burly frame, arms spread wide, devouring everything around him.
This meant—the sword speed had reached the very limit, so fast it deceived the eye.
At this moment, Wu Ming unleashed all manner of sword techniques: "Lead", "Stagnate", "Delay", "Dispel".
The wildly surging suction all around was weakened by his Swordsmanship secrets of "Adhere", "Send", "Lift", "Cast Away", his strikes both dispersing and dissolving it.
Suddenly, he pointed with two fingers, directly at the core of that mountain-crushing, sea-overturning force field between Jiang Dali's "slowly" closing, thick arms.
Like a bird soaring or a fish diving, with no trace to follow, the fingertip landed.
Bang!
