Chapter 701: The Sword Isn't Fast, Only the Mind Is in Chaos

A torrent of white light, sharp and absolute, tore through the space between the White Dragon Envoy and Horacio Yoxall. It was a sword. But to Saint Wanwan, it was not a mere weapon of steel. It was a manifestation of pure speed, a concept given form. The air itself did not have time to part; it was violently ripped asunder, letting out a sharp, piercing scream that scraped against the eardrums. Every mote of dust, every droplet of moisture in its path was atomized, leaving a transient, vacuum-like...