One sword slowly floated up.
As if this was some sort of signal, the second, then the third, more and more swords started to float upward, concentrating in one place, knocking into each other to make loud ringing noises.
Millions of swords gathered at once, forming an intense current of steel.
A single sword doesn't mean much, even if it used everything it had to attack a Projection realm cultivator, it's nothing more than being bitten by an ant.
But if millions of ants bite the same target, even an elephant would be reduced to a corpse.
When the amount of concentrated swords reaches a certain point, their powers would reach an unimaginable change in quality.
The intense current of metal flowed forward.
The swords were beginning their assault.
They carried an unshakable will, the fury of the entire world, wanting to snap back at their assailant one last time.
