C181 Promise of Ten Years

The three-foot-long blade was cold, thick and dull as it danced. The sword was dazzling and unpredictable as it danced, and as it moved its wrist, the blade became as fast as a fish. The sword moved, the body moved with the sword, the sword became one.

After practicing this set of sword art, Mo Wuji stopped coughing, slightly out of breath and a layer of thin sweat covered his forehead