Above the Celestial Blade Peak.
The celestial blade phantom, a hundred meters long, hung high in the sky, with terrifying sword intent pouring down.
Lin Zheyu stepped into it, and after adapting to the feeling of being enveloped by the sword intent, he began to climb slowly upwards.
Amidst the envelopment of the sword intent, he felt like his spirit was plunged into a quagmire formed by countless sharp blades.
No matter how he struggled, there was no way to escape from it.
Each struggle only resulted in more pain.
He could only endure silently, adapting and comprehending the meaning contained within the sword intent.
"How magical, is this the true intent?"
Lin Zheyu murmured softly.
True intent was what Lee Mengxi called 'intent,' and it resonated with the true intent diagram.
Engulfed by the sword intent, even Lin Zheyu's spirit was affected.
His perception seemed to be covered by a thin veil, becoming hazy.
