Even just once, it would be enough to leave Lu Qingshan with no place for burial.
He silently recited the word "Gather" in his heart.
Another twelve hundred swords appeared, hovering in the air, forming a Sword Pool, all their tips pointing forward, directly at Luo Qiantuo.
Additionally, seven hundred swords, seemingly endowed with a spiritual connection, appeared behind Luo Qiantuo, crashing toward his back.
Luo Qiantuo disregarded it all, continuously delivering punches from start to finish.
The space between the two was like a tumultuous sea, like a collapsing mountain, gathering and dispersing unpredictably.
Within a mere inch, heaven and earth overturned.
The twelve hundred swords, like exquisite porcelain, cracked thread by thread, terrifying to the extreme.
Amidst this, the sharp tips of seven hundred swords constantly collided with Luo Qiantuo's back.
