Inside his room on the flying ship, Bai Zihan's breathing slowly steadied, unaware of the commotion he had caused.
He slowly opened his eyes, which shone with a cold, silver sheen—like blades hidden within his pupils.
Sword Intent!
Not just any Sword Intent—Intermediate Sword Intent.
Something that would take even the most gifted sword cultivators a hundred years of blood, sweat, and sheer luck to achieve.
He lifted his hand, and with a casual flick of his finger, a faint, nearly invisible silver arc flew out, slicing cleanly through a decorative vase on the shelf.
Swish!
The vase slid apart into two perfect halves, the cut so smooth that the pieces didn't even fall apart until a gentle breeze from the room's ventilation knocked them over.
"Hahaha!"
Bai Zihan couldn't help but laugh, his excitement palpable.
"Intermediate Sword Intent… as expected of a System that can defy Heaven, it can even give me such a thing!"
