Chu Zhiyuan suddenly felt a blur before his eyes.
In that blur, he split into countless people, each practicing a different swordsmanship.
Some sword techniques were masterful, while others were mediocre.
Some were fierce and rugged, others were graceful and beautiful.
Some were gentle and elegant, some were awkward and clumsy.
Some sword techniques were like mountains, some like seas.
Some were like rain, some like lightning.
...
Countless sword techniques appeared in his mind simultaneously, nearly bursting his head, the headache was so intense that he wished to faint immediately.
This intense pain, he had never borne before, and felt he couldn't bear it, wishing he could die at that moment.
Better to die than to live like this, not to mention the idea of eternal life.
Moments later, these sword techniques turned into rays of light, captured by beams of spirit light, and then extinguished in his mind.
