746 The Iron Sword Wants You to Cry (2/2)

The beefy cultivator flew into the sky and was tossed several dozen feet away before he landed heavily on the ground, causing a large crater to appear.

Moments later, an angry growl sounded in the crater.

The cultivator threw away the hilt in his hands and climbed out of the crater angrily.

Then, he fell back into the crater once more.

He shouted angrily and climbed up again.

And fell back again.

He did this five times.

The cultivator could not climb anymore and he sat at the bottom of the crater, lost.

He coughed.

And started vomiting blood. The blood was black, and there were bits of his internal organs inside.

The force of the iron sword had penetrated the man's body and shattered his organs.

And the cultivator had not realized until he tried to stand for the fifth time, that his shaken organs had cracked and split apart.

Just like his seemingly powerful blade.

The following attack at the Verdant Canyon was not done by a single person.

Or by a single sword.

It was carried out by more than 20 swords.

The 20 swords were flying swords of cultivators from varying sects and countries.

The gloomy skies enveloped the plains, and with the shrill clanging of swords and them shining like rainbows, the skies brightened again.

They were all Great Sword Masters in the Seethrough Realm!

There were not many cultivators in the world, and the number of cultivators in the Seethrough Realm was even lower. Only the Tang Empire and the West-Hill Divine Palace could organize so many of them together on a single battlefield.

More than 20 flying swords soaring about at once were extremely rare.

Even the most powerful powerhouses at the peak of the Knowing Destiny State would find it troublesome when faced with such a challenge.

However, Second Brother did not feel so. He only thought that it was a hassle since he only had two hands.

Looking at the 20 or so flying swords heading toward him, he stuck his iron sword into the ground in front of him. Then, he reached out and made casual catching movements. However, his actions were done so quickly that it seemed like a chaotic mess.

There were several clanging sounds.

He had caught all the flying swords.

His palms were not large.

So it was a wonder how he had managed to hold so many swords.

Those flying swords in his hands were like too proud and lazy peacocks that would not be bothered to dress up before spreading their tails, looking like a mess.

Then, he tossed the flying swords behind him.

And they all plunged into the soft and wet plains.

In a world where Haotian Taoism reigned, even the Sword Sage, Liu Bai and the Master of Calligraphy, Lord Wang, were all considered visiting professors. There were many cultivators who served them. The battle of Verdant Canyon was undoubtedly the battle in which there was the largest number of cultivators fighting.

Countless cultivator and allied forces surged through the plains, attacking the Verdant Canyon like waves. They slammed against the silent man standing in front of the Verdant Canyon, and no matter how many of their compatriots in front fell, the people behind continued to charge forth.

The succession continued.

However, those at the back did not manage to move forward at all, they could only fill the gaps at the front.

Several arms coated in blood flew into the air.

Several bodies were tossed into the distance.

Countless flying swords burst through the air and then were turned into scrap metal in the man's hands.

The plains in front of the Verdant Canyon yesterday were littered with tens of thousands of arrows, turning into a forest of arrows.

The Qi of Heaven and Earth was roused by today's battle, shattering those arrows into fragments. Today, more than a hundred flying swords replaced them, deeply inserted into the plains.

The flying swords were all different. Their auras were different. Some were broad and others were narrow; some were sharp while others were blunt.

But once they were all inserted into the ground, they bore no differences.

They were all dead.

It was a forest of swords, and also a graveyard of swords.

Second Brother stood before the swords' burial mound, waving his own iron weapon.

He stood where he had started, not moving a single inch.

His brows were still as flat and they did not raise up, not even for a moment.

He did not show off any amazing power, only standing there, waving his sword calmly. No matter his posture or the strength with which he wielded the sword, they had not changed at all.

He seemed not to know what exhaustion was as every stroke of his sword was just as focused as it had been from dawn to noon. That was why it seemed casual and it felt as if there would not be any changes even if he were to continue until dusk.

His body was covered with blood. He had not moved when the blood flowed down his armor and when it dripped off him. As such, several pits filled with blood appeared in front of him as the blood trickled down.

Just like in the previous years, neither his posture nor expression had changed. He seemed just as consistent.

And he killed just as consistently.

And the more consistent he was, the more frightened he made others.

The sword style on the plains tapered off.

Fear overtook the hearts of many cultivators and they stopped their attacks subconsciously.

A sudden cry emerged from the crowds.

There was a cultivator from a certain sect who had been so frightened he had started crying.

Nobody thought of laughing at the man.

Because when they looked at the iron sword that still had blood dripping off it...

Everyone felt like crying as well.