The ghost creatures are in unspeakable misery now. They had just become familiar with a certain Sword Intent's attack pattern, only to face a different Sword Intent attacking them the next second.
In just a dozen breaths, the strongest ghost creature in the midst of the Seventh Realm felt as if it was contending with hundreds of Sword Cultivators simultaneously; entirely different Sword Intents and attack styles proliferated, with wounds visibly multiplying on its body.
"How exhausting!"
This ghost creature, retaining most of its intellect, sighed heavily.
Especially those leading four Sword Intents, each fiercer than the last—sweeping through like a desolate no-man's land, as if chopping vegetables, effortlessly crushing them one by one.
Wave after wave of Sword Intent surged continuously like tides, and no matter how many they shattered, another would always immediately replace it.
