Mark Ye summoned back his flying sword, slicing through the vines that bound him. He looked up at Ghost Guest, who was holding the Spirit Suppressing Bell, and hesitated for a moment before completely abandoning the support of his fire spirit root. A more intense aura erupted from his body.

"Golden Word, Disperse!" The mid-grade flying sword in Mark Ye's hand shattered instantly, reforming into ten small flying swords. Each sword emitted a dazzling golden light, their hum like dragons, causing even the flying swords in the storage bags of the cultivators below to resonate.

Everyone was shocked. This unparalleled sharpness was beyond their understanding, far surpassing the capabilities of someone at Mark Ye's level.

A well-informed sword cultivator suddenly realized something and exclaimed, "This is his innate divine ability!"