At this moment, he was the sword, and the sword was him, as if the human and the blade had united as one. Exuding a sharpness that could cut through anything.
Rock. Steel. Flesh. Even the air itself seemed to tremble under its edge.
This was the will of a swordsman.
The beginning of Sword Intent.
Not a technique or move, but a realisation.
A ticket.
To reach the peak on the path of swordsmanship.
Back to the fight scene.
Su Mo's eyes locked onto the incoming daggers. He could have stopped them with his magnetic control, but he didn't, as he intended to try something different.
He moved.
Just once.
A simple swing of the black sword in his hand.
Shiing—!
The sound was soft. Almost too soft.
For a moment, nothing seemed to happen.
Then—
Clink. Clink. Clink.
The flying daggers split apart mid-air.
Each one was cleanly severed into two.
No sparks or any sign of resistance.
They fell to the ground one after another, their momentum gone. The cuts were smooth.
