Xiao Yang formed a seal with both hands, and the thousand sword shadows immediately froze in mid-air, rapidly coalescing into a long, dragon-like formation. It was as swift as a lightning strike and as steady as a mountain; the mere sight of it was visually overwhelming.
The Seventh Saint distanced himself, not daring to engage Xiao Yang in close-quarters combat anymore. That long dragon—no, that vast river—of swords filled his heart with unease.
"Is this your trump card?" the Seventh Saint asked, gazing at the suspended river of swords. Xiao Yang stood atop the current, his expression cold and detached, his thoughts unreadable.
Chapter 730