Earlier that day, after crushing Su Ming's final strike with his bare hand, Ancestor Sky Sovereign looked at him.
"Truly impressive," he nodded.
Su Ming stood exactly thirty paces away, but he could no longer keep his balance. The Dragon Emperor Sword slipped from his fingers. His knees buckled, and he collapsed onto the ground. He had exhausted every drop of his Nascent Soul power, Void Dragon Will, and soul energy. His meridians throbbed with a dull ache.
The Saint chuckled, walking forward with silent steps. The white hair of the elderly man drifted over his shoulders, completely unaffected after crushing Su Ming's final move.
"That is more like it," the Saint said, stopping ten paces from him. "Now I am certain I did not make a mistake, hahaha."
He looked down at Su Ming with a calm gaze, his eyes reflecting a deep interest. "What do you call this sword technique? How did you achieve it?"
