The Transmigrated Sword Emperor

Li Dao held his sword as he walked forward, step by step. He was not in a hurry, nor was he slow.

His feet were steady as he stared straight at Song Xuanyang. The ancient yet gorgeous purple blade shone brightly under the sunlight.

The Raindrop Sword in front of him, Yin Changsheng, was engaged in a fiery battle with Song Xuanyang. The iron brush and the iron sword clashed, sending sparks flying everywhere.

A martial artist's combat strength was composed of many factors, the most important of which were their cultivation and martial skills.

The level of a martial artist's cultivation would determine their inner strength. Whether or not the martial skill was exquisite was the key to victory. In addition, a martial artist's grasp of the situation, tenacity of their mind, and purity of internal force were all crucial.

The inner strength cultivated from the absolute arts had their own characteristics, some were strong, some were pure, some were condensed, and some even had attributes.

Of course, this was only true for the lower realm of martial arts. Every martial art manual or martial art manual had its own attributes, such as metal, wood, water, fire, earth, etc.

Therefore, the grade of martial arts was very important. The supreme technique could allow one to be invincible within the same realm, and could even kill enemies beyond the same level.

This was also the reason why people in the martial world had such a fervent desire for the divine arts.

Yin Changsheng had a fortuitous encounter in his early years. Otherwise, a wandering martial artist like him wouldn't have come to this day.

However, now that Yan Changsheng realized that he was actually unable to suppress Song Xuanyang, he even felt like he was being suppressed. One must know that he had practiced martial arts twenty or thirty years longer than Song Xuanyang.

Humans were definitely not the type to become stronger after training for a long time, but they were definitely improving at all times. With time, a pig could also cultivate to the Exquisite Spirit Realm.

Song Xuanyang was still Song Xuanyang and the weapon in his hand was still a judge. However, there was something wrong with the way he used it.

His judge's pen seemed to be mixed with the shadow of a sword technique.

If Yan Changsheng still did not understand by this point, then he was definitely a pig.

It was impossible for Song Xuanyang to not have seen the divine arts' art since he had already obtained it. Therefore, the sword art shadow in his judge's brush must have come from the divine arts' art.

Fortunately, he did not have much time to cultivate or else he would have been able to go anywhere.

Even though Song Jingyang was still at the sixth level of the Postnatal realm after obtaining the absolute arts, his mystical technique was still firmly suppressing Yan Changsheng.

Besides, there were so many martial artists eyeing him covetously, even though there were only a dozen people attacking him.

Those who dared to participate in the free-for-all were all confident in their own martial arts.

Out of the three hundred men, only a dozen of them dared to attack Song Xuanyang while the rest stood off to the side with weapons and shouted.

Everyone was like that, even the people from the martial arts world. Being mixed in the martial arts world, wasn't it just a word of nonsense? Since they were just messing around, it wasn't strange that most of them were afraid of death.

Out of the dozen or so martial artists, only Yan Changsheng was at the sixth level of the Postnatal realm. As for the rest, they were at the fifth, fourth and uneven.

If it was the Song Xuanyang from a month ago, he would have been pierced through by Yan Changsheng. But now, Yan Changsheng and a dozen other martial artists couldn't even take him down. From this, it could be seen how much of a benefit he had gained.

Clang clang clang. The sound of weapons clashing could be heard. In just a short while, four warriors of the Houtian fourth stage had fallen.

He then looked at Song Xuanyang, who seemed like a crazed devil as he stuck out his long tongue. His gaze could make people tremble with fear.

Many of the martial artists that were battling Song Xuanyang retreated.

Cold sweat the size of beans dripped down from Yan Changsheng's forehead.

Coincidentally, Li Dao had walked into the ring of battle. His purple sword reflected the sunlight and was beautiful yet enchanting.