More than 2 million units of vitality coalesced into a formidable vitality barrier, its thickness measuring a substantial three feet—impenetrable and resilient.
Braydon Neal, armed with 80,000 swords, emanated an aura of both a banished immortal and a formidable swordmaster.
"80,000 swords!" Lyrik Hull uttered hoarsely, his voice revealing awe. "Mount Sino Sword Art, level nine! Who are you?!"
The martial artists of the South Pole Island had firsthand experience of the Mount Sino Sword Art's terror.
In the gathering place of influential families on the island, white-robed youths adorned with small silver sword embroidery cultivated in a courtyard.
The swords in their hands subtly trembled, as if responding to a mystical call.
Simultaneously, within a thatched cottage nestled in the courtyard, a white-haired, frail man slowly rose, his visage reflecting exhaustion.
He looked in Braydon's direction.
