Ronnie Long's eyelid twitched wildly. The whole mountain was covered with Quinn Shepherd's swords—how was he supposed to fight this battle?
Just the sheer weight of these swords alone could probably crush him to death!
Ronnie glanced at Sage Nicholas Tranquil, but the sage pretended not to notice his silent plea. Even making eight thousand swords fly and then plant themselves in the ground—a feat that looked simple—would drain the mana of most Six Directions Realm experts. Only someone like Quinn, whose mana was absurdly deep and forceful, could drive so many flying swords at once.
Besides, controlling that many flying swords demanded an insane level of numerology and calculation—a mind quick enough to guide each sword on its own unique trajectory, making sure none of them interfered with the others.
Just figuring out the paths for eight thousand swords would take a monstrous mastery of numerology!
Clearly, Quinn had already fused Dao Gate's Dao Sword with Village Chief's sword arts—only then could he command so many flying swords.
"Could the Overlord Body really exist in this world?"
Sage Nicholas Tranquil was suspicious. If the Overlord Body were real, surely it would be recorded in Little Jade Capital Sect's archives. Yet ever since he'd returned in disappointment, he'd read through every book in Little Jade Capital, and there wasn't a single mention of the Overlord Body!
Little Jade Capital Sect's library was vast, its records reaching back farther than any other sect or holy land could imagine. If there was no mention of the Overlord Body, then it simply didn't exist!
That was why Sage Nicholas Tranquil had always been certain Village Chief was lying. But now, seeing Quinn's performance, his confidence was starting to waver.
Ronnie didn't have time to think. Fire blazed from his eyes; he opened them wide, and two beams of snow-white sword-light shot out!
His sword art was unique—a supreme technique of Little Jade Capital called Heaven's Eye Heart-Sword Art. It specialized in forging sword-dao into the eyes themselves, not just the pupils, so wherever the eye reached, the sword arrived.
The power of this sword art lay in not refining external spirit weapons or Sword Pills, but in turning one's own eyes into sword cores. Wherever the gaze landed, the sword struck—swift and direct.
With its unique cultivation method, his eyes could blaze like twin suns—sword-light unstoppable—or scatter starlight like a galaxy, each beam a sword-point, dazzling and unpredictable.
If he could refine his heart into the sword core, heart and sword would become one—faster and deadlier than even sword eyes. Wherever the mind reached, the sword would arrive.
Ronnie hadn't reached that stage yet, but his sword eyes were already extraordinary.
But in the next instant, countless flying swords shattered his twin beams of sword-light. Ronnie's sword-light was pure yuanqi, while Quinn's flying swords were forged from treasures scoured by the Cult of the Heavenly Demon—their quality far surpassed Ronnie's, and Quinn's overwhelming cultivation crushed his sword-light!
Starlight erupted from Ronnie's eyes like a river of stars, meeting the changes of Dao Sword's Fourth Form. The sword arts of both men seemed similar, but in truth were fundamentally different.
Dao Sword structured the celestial starfield through mathematics, each change precisely calculated. Heaven's Eye Heart-Sword Art, by contrast, changed freely according to the heart's desire—less fine in detail, but more unpredictable than Dao Sword.
But in terms of sword against sword, Ronnie's sword-light was far inferior to Quinn's flying swords in raw quality.
Ronnie grunted as the galaxy of starlight from his eyes shattered. Eight thousand swords became a rain of blades, shredding the star-river. As the swords shot down, Ronnie heard Sage Nicholas Tranquil shout, "Spare him!"
Then he saw all the flying swords surround him, forming a massive Sword Pill with himself trapped inside. Every gleaming sword tip pointed at every inch of his body, and he couldn't help but worry—if these swords fell, would there even be a corpse left?
The Sword Pill split apart with a resounding clang, merging into a long river of sword-light that poured back into Quinn's Glutton Dragon Pouch.
Ronnie hastily patted himself down, discovering he was still intact. Only then did he breathe a sigh of relief, wanting to thank Quinn—but his legs felt weak, his throat was parched, and he couldn't get the words out.
Cindy Mu hurried forward and offered him clean water. Ronnie drank, finally able to speak: "Thank you, Human Emperor, for sparing me. But I didn't lose in sword-dao! You only beat me by relying on superior treasures!"
Quinn didn't deny it. Humbly, he said, "Senior Brother Ronnie is right. I haven't trained Dao Sword rigorously—in fact, I've only studied Dao Sword for ten days. I'm not very proficient."
Ronnie's face darkened instantly. His throat felt dry again, and his voice came out hoarse: "Not proficient in Dao Sword?"
Quinn glanced at Village Chief. "I've always trained sword arts with Grandpa Village Chief, and the sword arts he taught me are too strong—I'm afraid I can't hold back. My Dao Sword skills aren't deep, so you were able to withstand them."
Ronnie drank several more gulps of water, but his throat was still parched.
Cindy Mu's eyes sparkled. "Then, Human Emperor Quinn, could you show us your strongest sword-dao?"
Warren Moran's eyes also lit up, full of expectation.
If Quinn's Dao Sword skills were already so formidable, just how overwhelming would his strongest sword art be?
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Quinn looked embarrassed and glanced at Village Chief. Sheepishly, he said, "My sword art is kind of full of flaws... Actually, not just a few flaws—it's riddled with them! Especially lately, the flaws keep multiplying."
Ronnie, Cindy Mu, and Warren Moran were all stunned, and even Sage Nicholas Tranquil was surprised: "He can actually be genuinely humble?"
Quinn looked apologetic. "My strongest sword art has never beaten Grandpa Village Chief—I've never won. Then I met my father, and I never won against him either... Recently, after spying on the Imperial Preceptor's moment of enlightenment, the flaws just kept piling up."
Those months on Hansen Keane's divine ark were the hardest for Quinn—inside the painting, his father fed him moves, pounding him into the ground over and over.
If Quinn hadn't beaten Ben Coates, he wouldn't have recovered his confidence at all.
And at Qingmen Pass, when the Imperial Preceptor attained enlightenment, Quinn spied on him and invaded his dao heart, witnessing the entire process. The shock was indescribable.
But this led to another result: his vision soared to heights he'd never imagined. Looking back at his own improved Sword Diagram, Quinn saw more and more flaws!
Village Chief was surprised too. "Quinn, show me your sword art that's full of flaws—I want to see it."
Quinn hesitated for a moment. "Then I'll embarrass myself," he said.
He held his breath and focused. The Worryless Sword rang out as it left its sheath.
Quinn gripped the Worryless Sword. As its sword-light flickered, countless flying swords shot from his Glutton Dragon Pouch, merging one after another into the Worryless Sword.
Three thousand swords fused with the Worryless Sword.
The Worryless Sword was the mother sword; the others were child swords, able to merge into it. As a master of artifact refinement, Quinn's Sword Pill had two forms—merging child swords into the mother sword was one. But due to limits in his mana and strength, he could only fuse three thousand swords at once; any more, and it would hinder his performance.
Quinn fixed his gaze on the sword tip, as if nothing else existed. Then he activated his sword technique, and the Worryless Sword began to move awkwardly in his hand.
Whoosh—
A surge of wind roared. The Worryless Sword moved slowly, yet made a sound as if a massive weight was crushing the air!
As Quinn wielded his sword, child swords shot out from the Worryless Sword like phantoms, their sword-lights splitting again and again. Each child sword performed a different move—the seventeen basic sword forms unfolded in their trajectories, overlapping in chaotic layers, making the sword technique seem jumbled and disorderly.
He was performing Sword Treading the Rivers and Mountains, but the sword logic was now completely different from the version Village Chief had taught him.
His sword technique was clumsy at first, lacking any sense of agility. Only as the Worryless Sword gradually sped up did it begin to flow with life; more and more child swords soared through the air, the sword technique growing faster, all following the dance of the Worryless Sword in his hand.
Sage Nicholas Tranquil's expression grew grave, while Ronnie, Cindy Mu, and Warren Moran realized they could no longer understand what they were seeing.
The sword logic in Quinn's technique grew ever more complex and profound. Above the immortal mountain, three thousand flying swords sometimes gathered like clouds, sometimes formed towering peaks that scattered the mist, sometimes became rivers streaming through the sky—you could almost hear the rush of water. At other times, they became a thousand trees, lush and green, each leaf and blade of grass vivid down to its veins!
After a moment, all the sword-light vanished.
Quinn shook the Worryless Sword, sending the flying swords back into his Glutton Dragon Pouch.
"No need for another match!"
Cindy Mu snapped back to herself and quickly said, "My cultivation and strength are a notch below Senior Brother Ronnie's—I'd rather not compete!"
Warren Moran shook his head. "I can't withstand that move either. No need to compete—I'll concede."
Ronnie's face was pale; he opened his mouth, found his throat dry again, and gulped down water. "Your sword technique—I can't follow it anymore."
Sage Nicholas Tranquil was stunned. He looked at Quinn, then at Village Chief, and suddenly sighed: "Old Daoist, you've taken a fine disciple. His sword art has entered the dao."
Village Chief shook his head. "I never taught him to refine swords like this—he figured it out himself. Quinn, your sword technique still has plenty of flaws, like a sieve leaking air everywhere. You need to keep working at it. If you ever face someone with greater insight, you won't even know how you died!"
Quinn shivered, replying awkwardly, "I've noticed all those flaws too, but I haven't been able to fix them yet."
"Is this how you teach a disciple?"
Sage Nicholas Tranquil couldn't help but laugh and cry: "This sword technique could already dominate the world! Anyone who surpasses him must have truly entered the sword-dao!"
"No need for another match!"
Cindy Mu snapped back to herself and quickly said, "My cultivation and strength are a notch below Senior Brother Ronnie's—I'd rather not compete!"
Warren Moran shook his head. "I can't withstand that move either. No need to compete—I'll concede."
Ronnie's face was pale; he opened his mouth, found his throat dry again, and gulped down water. "Your sword technique—I can't follow it anymore."
Sage Nicholas Tranquil was stunned. He looked at Quinn, then at Village Chief, and suddenly sighed: "Old Daoist, you've taken a fine disciple. His sword art has entered the dao."
Village Chief shook his head. "I never taught him to refine swords like this—he figured it out himself. Quinn, your sword technique still has plenty of flaws, like a sieve leaking air everywhere. You need to keep working at it. If you ever face someone with greater insight, you won't even know how you died!"
Quinn shivered, replying awkwardly, "I've noticed all those flaws too, but I haven't been able to fix them yet."
"Is this how you teach a disciple?"
Sage Nicholas Tranquil couldn't help but laugh and cry: "This sword technique could already dominate the world! Anyone who surpasses him must have truly entered the sword-dao!"