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Wu Jianzi, at the moment the referee's words had fallen, his entire momentum suddenly changed. The next moment, atop the arena, a resounding clang echoed.
He had drawn his sword!
As the sharp sword left its sheath, it seemed he was no longer human— not just fused with the sword, but as if he had entirely vanished.
Where he stood, only the sword seemed to remain.
A thrust pierced through, not so much his own action, but the sword itself seeming to fly forth, carrying him along.
In his eyes, his own existence appeared optional, merely a tool for the sword in his hands.
And that sword was incredibly fast!
With one thrust, the air around split in two, as if dividing heaven and earth!
Clearly, it was just a streak of sword light, a single blade without the ghostly projections of a thousand swords—yet at that moment, those watching felt as though the arena held nothing else but that one sword, nothing else at all!