With those words, the sword pouch at her waist vibrated. Eight long swords flew out of the pouch and hovered in midair, their tips pointing in unison at the group before her.
Swirling spiritual light and biting sword qi illuminated the entire book tower as bright as day.
Eight swords?
Ming Ran's pupils shrank.
She instinctively took half a step back, her hand tightening around the sword pouch at her waist.
She had sensed at first glance that this imposter was stronger than her, but she had never expected her to be this much stronger.
Controlling eight swords at once—that was the eighth realm of the Seven Continents Twelve Swords.
Even her father was only at the eighth realm.
Yesterday, she had received some guidance from Song Yao and gained a bit of enlightenment. After practicing, she had indeed broken through her limits, barely managing to control four swords at once.
Compared to eight, she paled in comparison...
Standing to the side, Song Yao glanced at the reactions of her junior brothers and sisters, then peered outside the book tower.
Her Fourth Junior Brother showed no signs of moving in this direction. There should still be enough time.
Since they had such a powerful live target, it would be a waste not to use her.
She turned and asked, “Can you fight?”
Ming Ran and the other two had already been preparing to retreat, even ready to run.
Hearing this, they were all stunned and turned to look at Song Yao.
Leaning against a bookshelf, she yawned lazily. “It's not easy to come out for training. It's a rare opportunity to face a demon head-on. Do you want to try?”
She didn't seem nervous at all, though the sleepiness in her eyes was impossible to hide.
Then she unhurriedly added with a smile, “If you can't win, I've got your back.”
The hearts of the three trembled at those words. They looked at her, momentarily dazed.
They had clearly entered the sect at the same time.
They were clearly the same age.
Yet when she spoke, why did it make them feel so inexplicably trustful and reassured?
A surge of courage rose in her chest. Ming Ran gritted her teeth, her gaze landing on the imposter's sword pouch.
Although the imposter could control eight swords, Ming Ran could sense that those swords were also fakes.
She might not necessarily lose.
Ming Ran took a deep breath and was the first to speak. “I can try.”
Cheng Yue was silent for a moment, then gripped her hilt. “Then let's try.”
Ning Zhou muttered, “Uh, I don't really want to try...”
Before he could finish, he was interrupted by the chiming of swords from across the room.
“Insolent fools!”
The eight swords hovering behind the fake Ming Ran buzzed simultaneously, their sword qi surging like eight streaks of silver lightning as they thrust toward them.
Song Yao smiled, tapped her toes to retreat, and floated lightly onto the bookshelf against the wall behind them. Finding a spacious spot on the top shelf, she lazily lay down to watch the fight.
Below, the fight instantly descended into chaos.
Ming Ran reacted the fastest. Her sword pouch lit up, and four long swords shot out.
Swords clashed, the metallic ringing shaking the ancient books on the shelves, causing them to rustle and fall.
Cheng Yue followed closely behind.
This was one of the rare times Song Yao had seen her fight, and she was surprised by her swordplay.
It was incredibly fierce and swift. She didn't strike easily, but when she did, it was a lethal blow.
Forming a hand seal, a brilliantly glowing long sword flew out from behind her, aiming straight for the fake Ming Ran's face, forcing her to distract herself to block it.
Song Yao watched, clicking her tongue in admiration.
Not bad, not bad.
No wonder she had managed to stand out among all the senior disciples to participate in the Myriad Bones Forest secret realm.
She was indeed a promising seed for a sword cultivator.
On the other side, Ning Zhou was in a bit of a pickle.
He hadn't reached the Golden Core yet, and he had just had a lot of his essence sucked by the demon infants. Now, not only was his spiritual energy depleted, but his muscles had also atrophied quite a bit.
After being chased and beaten by two swords for a while, he roared, swung a metal staff, and rushed forward. “Ahhh, I'll fight you to the death!”
The three of them didn't have much chemistry, each having their own fighting style.
Although it was exhausting, they at least didn't fall behind.
Song Yao watched sleepily, and in the end, she couldn't help but close her eyes and doze off for a bit.
Who knew how much time had passed.
A loud bang shook her awake.
She opened her sleepy eyes, taking a moment to focus. Looking down, she saw the fake Ming Ran, along with her swords, smashed into the bookshelf on the east side.
The entire bookshelf was smashed to pieces, splinters flying everywhere, and torn pages fluttering in the air.
The eight swords lay scattered in disarray on the ground, the spiritual light on them dimming.
Cheng Yue and the other two collapsed in the center, not much better off than the fake Ming Ran.
Their robes were shredded by sword qi, and they were covered in wounds. Ning Zhou was the most miserable; his metal staff was broken in two, and he was half-kneeling on the ground, his chest heaving violently, without even the strength to raise his head.
After a long while, Ming Ran managed to squeeze out a weak smile. “Did we... did we win?”
Cheng Yue's grip on her sword loosened slightly, and she let out a breath.
Ning Zhou simply couldn't hold on anymore and collapsed to the ground. “No, no, I need to rest for a bit. You guys go down first...”
Before he could finish his sentence, the collapsed bookshelf in front of them suddenly moved.
Broken wood and torn books were pushed aside from the inside by an invisible force, making a rustling sound.
The three of them stiffened and looked forward at the same time.
They saw the fake Ming Ran, who had clearly been beaten helpless just now, slowly stand up again.
Her robes were in disarray, and her gaze was even colder. She spoke unhurriedly, “I really underestimated you.”
The eight swords scattered on the ground flew up again. Not only that, another two swords flew out from her sword pouch.
Ten swords.
The ten swords were like an unfurled folding screen, sweeping over them with overwhelming spiritual pressure.
The three of them instantly lost their composure.
It was one thing not to defeat her, but how was she even stronger now?!
Ning Zhou's eyes went dark, and he passed out directly.
Cheng Yue was not much better off. Under such spiritual pressure, she was already on the verge of fainting.
Ming Ran glanced at the two beside her. Feeling a metallic taste in her throat, she spat out a mouthful of blood.
She gritted her teeth, using her last ounce of strength, and laboriously gripped the hilt of the sword stuck in the ground before her, trying to stand up bit by bit.
Others could faint.
She couldn't.
This was the Ming family. With her parents incapacitated, the Ming family could only rely on her.
She had to stand up.
However, halfway up, her knees buckled, and she fell toward the ground again—
Fortunately, a cool hand supported her and took the sword from her grasp.
“You did very well, Ming Ran.”
The voice drifted down from above, carrying a hint of sleepiness.
She looked up and saw Song Yao casually twirling the sword.
The youth's pale face was wrapped in a cloak, her eyes curving as she hooked the sword pouch at Ming Ran's waist and said, “Now it's Seventh Senior Sister's turn to have your back.”
Her eyelids grew heavier. In her hazy state, she faintly saw several swords filing out of her sword pouch, the sword patterns on the pouch lighting up at the same time.
This... this meant...
All twelve swords of the Seven Continents Twelve Swords were unsheathed.
How was this possible?
Other than the ancestor of the Ming family who had created this sword technique, no one else had ever been able to reach this level.
The twelfth realm of great perfection?
And these were real swords, unlike the fake ones held by the imposter opposite her.
She struggled to open her eyes wider to see more clearly, but her head grew even groggier under the spiritual pressure of both sides.
Before completely losing consciousness, she only heard a few clashes of sword blades and screams.
And a soft sigh from Seventh Senior Sister: “So weak.”
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