The Great Sword made of Formations hovered silently in the air, humming with incomprehensible power. And for the first time, it moved—not under Lin Mu's control, but of its own volition.
"What are you doing?" Lin Mu asked, his voice caught somewhere between awe and alarm.
The sword offered no answer.
Instead, it surged forward like a beast roused from slumber.
With a single sweep of its blade, it cleaved through the air—and one of the nearby Sword Dao Embryo images was shattered.
Like shards of porcelain, the image scattered into motes of silver light.
Another swing. Another sword embryo vanished.
The surrounding lights—the sword concepts, each a legacy of profound truth—trembled and scattered like frightened birds.
They fled.
Yes, fled.
Lin Mu watched in stunned disbelief as the vast constellation of Sword Dao Embryos dissipated into the void, vanishing one after another under the pressure of the formation sword's presence. None dared to challenge it. None dared to remain.
