Every single time Su Ming lifted his right hand and drew with his index finger, a layer of the air before him would disappear, as if there were layers of membranes in the air.
He did not know how much time had passed, but Su Ming's initial speed of drawing the sword gradually slowed down, as if he was copying the sword.
As time passed by, Su Ming did not know how many strokes he had drawn and how many times he had copied that sword slash.
He might not know the details, but he knew that each stroke he drew might seem the same, but in truth, they were different. If he drew a thousand strokes, then those thousand strokes would be different. If he drew ten thousand strokes, then those ten thousand strokes would be different!
Yet he still could not find the grief that spread out when Si Ma Xin swung that sword slash. It was as if he could not fuse it with that one stroke.
The law contained within that sword slash made Su Ming feel that it was constantly changing, as if there was no way for him to follow it. It was difficult for him to completely understand it, so he used his right index finger as a brush and drew it out completely.
He knew that it would be difficult for him to completely understand the power of the world contained within that sword slash within a short period of time. That was why he did not want to do it in one go. Instead, he copied every single stroke based on something different.
Gradually, as time passed by, every single time Su Ming drew his right hand downwards, he would slowly feel the countless layers of invisible membranes between him and the incoming crimson sword disappearing.
As the membranes disappeared, Su Ming's body gradually drew closer to the crimson sword.
Su Ming's expression was calm, but his eyes were empty, as if he had lost his soul. Perhaps more accurately speaking, it was as if his soul had already fused into his right index finger. As he drew with each stroke, his soul had already spread out in the world to sense the strange changes contained within that sword slash as the world shook.
Each stroke was like a drawing, and the invisible membranes disappeared one by one. Su Ming walked forward slowly, and with each step he took, he would draw many more strokes, causing even more of the membranes to disappear.
However, he knew clearly that he could only copy the shape of that sword slash, not its soul. Even if he used his own soul to draw it, he would not be able to sense that grief, which was why it would be lifeless.
"Grief …" Su Ming mumbled. He drew again and again with his right hand before him. He could find his own grief, he could find Dark Mountain's grief, but there seemed to be something missing in those sorrows. They could not fuse into those strokes, those strokes, and those slashes.
'It lacks the ancient air of time …' When Su Ming arrived beside the crimson sword that was slashing down from midair and was only a few feet away from the sword, Su Ming's body suddenly froze, and a hint of understanding appeared in his mind.
'Among all the people I've met, there is only one person who possesses this ancient feeling the most …' Su Ming lowered his head. His right eye gradually turned red, and he turned into Dark Mountain's blood moon.
"Why do you weep..?" Su Ming mumbled and closed his eyes. He lifted his right index finger instinctively and drew another line before him. That line was slanted. If it was drawn on a piece of paper, perhaps it would only be a horizontal line, but that simple horizontal line contained a change in the world that would make all those who saw it feel their expressions change.
At that moment, he was drawing in the air. A shattering sound that could not be heard by human ears rang out, and the final invisible membrane between Su Ming and the crimson sword was torn apart when Su Ming drew it with his finger.
The instant it disappeared, Su Ming lifted his right hand once again and drew another line on the crimson sword that was now no longer separated from him by the invisible membrane.
That line was only a horizontal line, but while it might have seemed like a single line, in truth, it was the most perfect line Su Ming had ever drawn after he had drawn tens of thousands of lines on the sword's trajectory.
At the instant he did so, the numerous horizontal lines he had drawn previously appeared beside him. These lines that looked like they had been drawn by graffiti appeared, but no one else could see this, because Su Ming was the one who had drawn them, and only he could see them.
At that moment, the innumerable horizontal lines moved and gathered together before Su Ming. As if they were overlapping with each other, they overlapped with each other, eventually forming the strongest horizontal line that Su Ming could draw after copying the trajectory of the sword in the world up to this point in his epiphany.
The instant he drew that horizontal line, the world rumbled, and cracking sounds seemed to echo in the air. The world before him shattered like a mirror, as if a layer of it had been scraped off. Uproars reverberated in the air, and a piercing whistle descended from the sky.
Everything around him had returned to normal. Time seemed to have stopped at the moment before Su Ming gained his epiphany, and as time returned to normal, he returned to that moment as well.
It was as if everything that had happened before was just an illusion.
A dazed look appeared on Su Ming's face. He had his right hand lifted at that moment and was still in the same position he had when he drew the final line in that strange world.
The thing that had let out a piercing whistle before him was Si Ma Xin's crimson sword. That sword was tumbling backwards, and with a bang in midair, it could no longer maintain its sword form. It turned into a large amount of red light and returned to the Seven Colored Mountain behind Si Ma Xin, who was looking at himself with a shocked and incredulous look on his face.
Si Ma Xin's breathing quickened. At that moment, all the people who were watching also looked towards Su Ming. Their gazes were filled with shock, as well as astonishment.
During that instant just now, they had seen with their own eyes that the crimson sword had cut down on Su Ming. Su Ming originally did not have much of a reaction, but when the sword was less than a hundred feet away from him, he suddenly lifted his head and lifted his right hand, as if he had swung it lightly at the incoming crimson sword.
Yet that one swing caused the world between Su Ming and the crimson sword to distort. Many people did not even manage to see it clearly before they heard rumbling sounds reverberating in the air. The crimson sword let out a piercing whistle and was sent tumbling backwards, unable to fight back against the attack. In the end, it could no longer maintain its sword form!
After all, this was Si Ma Xin's God of Berserkers Transformation!
After a short period of silence, an uproar broke out. The gazes that were looking at Su Ming were filled with shock and bewilderment. It was as if at that moment, they had gotten to know this unfamiliar face before them once again.
Si Ma Xin's breathing quickened. He might not have been injured, but during that instant, Su Ming's casual swing had caused his crimson sword to tumble backwards and shatter. This had already shocked him to the point that he froze in place.
He understood the might of his God of Berserkers Transformation, and it was precisely because he understood it that his heart raced against his chest and his face was filled with disbelief.
'That's impossible! He's not a powerful Berserker in the Bone Sacrifice Realm, how could he possibly scatter the Style I understood so easily..? And … and the way he defended himself just now … 'Si Ma Xin could not believe what he saw. Su Ming's action of dispersing his sword was especially familiar to him.
During that instant just now, there was a faint hint of grief that made his heart tremble.
A brilliant light appeared in the red robed left preceptor's eyes on the fourth summit. He took a step forward with an incredibly grave expression and looked closely at Su Ming, who was standing in the battlefield in the distance.
"Creation …" the left preceptor mumbled. He did not avert his gaze for a long time.
There were also quite a number of old men who rarely left the mountain on the other mountains in Freezing Sky Clan. At that moment, they were all watching the battle just now. The power of Su Ming's final swing was enough to make their hearts tremble.
On the eighth summit, the long-haired woman who had been sitting on the raised platform lifted her right hand and tucked a lock of black hair by her ear. When she put it down, she drew a line before her with her finger. The arc she drew looked somewhat similar to the horizontal line Su Ming had drawn.
It was not just the appearance that was similar, but the charm contained within was similar. In fact, when she drew that line, the air before her also distorted, as if she had easily imitated Su Ming's actions just now. However, the ancient and sorrowful feeling was missing when she drew that line with her finger.
"What an interesting stroke … So he's from the ninth summit..?" The woman smiled faintly.
The dazed look on Su Ming's face disappeared as he stood in midair under Heaven Gate. Calmness returned to his face, but his heart was filled with shock. The moment his mind returned to normal, a sharp pain shot through his body, causing his face to turn pale. He coughed out a huge mouthful of blood and took a few steps back.
That pain did not come from a single part of his body, but from his entire body. Every inch of his flesh, every inch of his bones, and even his veins and organs were aching.
That pain came too suddenly. It was as if some of Su Ming's actions had exceeded the limits of what his body could withstand, causing his body and organs to show signs of exhaustion.
As Su Ming retreated, Han Mountain Bell, which was not too far away, had already enveloped the rod insect. Once it was trapped within, Han Mountain Bell shrank and eventually returned to the size of a bell before flying towards Su Ming and landing in his hands.
Buzzing sounds came from within the bell, causing it to tremble nonstop in Su Ming's hands, as if the trapped rod insect was struggling madly.
After all, Su Ming did not have complete control over Han Mountain Bell. He might be able to take it away at will, but in terms of its power, he could only turn the bell's chimes into sound waves. He could also use it to seal things like what he did previously.
When Si Ma Xin saw Su Ming coughing out that mouthful of blood not too far away, his expression softened slightly. He was no longer as shocked as before. If Su Ming could truly dispel the first style of his God of Berserkers Transformation without suffering any injuries, then Si Ma Xin would immediately turn around and run away. He would return to the first summit to isolate himself and avoid Su Ming.
Yet once Su Ming coughed out that mouthful of blood, Si Ma Xin regained his confidence.
He stared at Su Ming and took a deep breath. A grave look that had never appeared on his face before appeared on his face. He lifted his right hand slowly and pushed against the sky with his five fingers.
"If you can withstand my final style, then from now on, when I see you, I will immediately kneel down and worship you!" Si Ma Xin said resolutely and clenched his fingers lightly in the air.
During that instant, the Sons of Berserker Seeds that Si Ma Xin had placed in more than a dozen tribes in the Land of South Morning trembled violently and fell to the ground at the same time, losing consciousness.
"Great Art of Heartless Berserker Seed!" Si Ma Xin's hair moved without wind and a dark light appeared in his eyes. He spread his arms wide and looked incredibly enchanting as he floated in midair! (To be continued. If you like this work, please come to Qidian.Com and vote for me. Your support is my greatest motivation.)
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