But in this upper realm, this long saber appeared unremarkable, ordinary, like a common bandit's blade.
In reality, even treasures of the caliber of the Four Immortal Slaying Swords or the Ruyi Jingu Bang.
What were peak Dao artifacts, Chaos Supreme Treasures, Great Dao Supreme Treasures, Primordial Supreme Treasures…
All of them were reduced to plastic toys.
Compared to those, the long saber Fang Ming now held could at least unleash power beyond that of a mere kitchen knife, at the very least a weapon capable of truly harming enemies.
This was enough.
Enough for Fang Ming.
After obtaining the long saber, Fang Ming swung it backhand, striking the blinded bandit who was screaming and unable to react, no longer posing a threat to Fang Ming.
One strike.
Just one strike.
Targeting the weak point, it landed precisely on the bandit's neck.
Blood spilled out.
A great deal of blood.
This bandit would never think again.
For his head had been severed from his body.
His body lay separated on the ground.
Fang Ming, having taken the long saber, did not delay another moment and instantly charged into the midst of the bandits.
Facing the imminent threat to their lives, these bandits quickly snapped back to reality, forcefully suppressing their shock at Fang Ming's sudden transformation, and confronting the true danger.
But with a weapon in hand, Fang Ming's combat power had more than doubled compared to when he was unarmed.
Even though these bandits had managed to suppress their shock and raised their long sabers, hacking down fiercely at Fang Ming, no longer concerned about damaging the value of their cargo – the target had already killed one of their own and intended to kill more. To hesitate now, thinking about monetary loss, and only using the flat of the blade instead of the edge… wasn't that foolish?
These bandits were not fools. Under the threat of death, they cared little about preserving Fang Ming's appearance or physique.
In their eyes, this young man who killed decisively without batting an eye was no mere pampered young master, but a veritable devil. Faced with such an enemy, why hold back?
Let those who wanted to capture him alive come and do it themselves.
The bandits simply wanted to survive, and their first thought was to take Fang Ming's life so they could live.
However, even if the bandits could react in time and bring their blades down upon Fang Ming, how could Fang Ming's grasp of combat and timing compare to theirs?
As Fang Ming's saber flashed, each strike was executed with exquisite precision, leaving no room for flaws.
Each blow struck directly at the opponent's weakness, each one a masterpiece of skill.
Many bandits showed looks of terror. They felt as if the saber in Fang Ming's hand possessed sentience, a life of its own, truly embodying the pinnacle of the unity of man and weapon.
This was the pinnacle of skill.
The pinnacle of mortal skill.
These bandits, the youngest in their early twenties, the oldest in their thirties or forties.
How much combat experience did they possess?
Judging by their ages alone, their combat experience was merely that of ordinary mortals.
Indeed, bandits were undoubtedly inferior to legitimate ancient soldiers in terms of combat experience.
And Fang Ming?
Trillions of years of combat experience, of life-and-death struggles.
The bandits, with their at most twenty or thirty years of fighting experience, could they compare their skills to Fang Ming's billions of years of experience?
Naturally, they could not.
The gap between their skills was like that between heaven and earth, like the difference between a firefly's glow and the vast sun.
To Fang Ming, these bandits were simply the dregs of the dregs.
They possessed strong physiques and prime bodies, their strength several times greater than that of the frail-looking youth Fang Ming.
But in actual combat, even with several times the strength, Fang Ming could kill them with a single strike, using his exquisite, weakness-targeting techniques.
With several times the strength, and in greater numbers.
What of it?
The bandits' combat experience, compared to billions of years of fighting experience, was abysmally low. Their strength was only a few times greater, their numbers only a dozen or so more, not yet reaching a level of overwhelming power that Fang Ming could not overcome.
Naturally, they could not escape Fang Ming's saber.
In close combat, one bandit after another fell to Fang Ming.
The remaining bandits, seeing the tide turn against them, terrified by Fang Ming's devilish onslaught, with every strike a kill, broke and fled.
Fang Ming, from start to finish, had only killed eleven bandits.
But over twenty bandits had fled.
A rout.
This was the crushing of morale.
The legends of fighting to the last man, of never retreating… those were just legends.
Even modern armies could not achieve fighting to the last soldier.
Let alone ancient bandits?
In fact, when Fang Ming had brutally and swiftly killed six or seven bandits, the bandits had already been scared witless.
The reason the number of dead bandits was eleven was because the terrified bandits fled in disarray, even colliding with each other.
They fell to the ground simultaneously, unable to get up.
Faced with this situation, Fang Ming could only choose to finish them off, as bandits who couldn't even flee properly deserved such an end.
This added several more souls to Fang Ming's tally.
"Devil! He's a devil! I saw it, Wang Er didn't even have time to swing his saber before he was dead at his hands!"
"He's clearly not a supernormal being, how can he have such terrifying strength?"
"Don't stop me from escaping! Get out of the way! Hurry and move!"
"Scram! Don't block my path!"
"How can there be such a cruel person, killing without any emotional fluctuation, like a machine killing."
"This kind of monster should be dealt with by the second boss or the main boss!"
The bandits scattered and fled.
Despite knowing that Fang Ming's strength was not great, relying entirely on skill.
And strength could be depleted, it could not last forever.
If thirty or more people attacked together, they might still be able to harm Fang Ming, even kill him.
As long as enough strength was expended, this result could be achieved.
That was the logic.
But who knew how many lives would be lost, how many bandits would die, to kill this youth.
The bandits all thought:
What if it was me who died?
Dying here would be too unjust.
The bandits didn't want to die themselves; if someone had to die, let it be someone else, let them stop this monster, but don't hold them back.
When one person thinks this way, it's not scary.
But when all the bandits thought this way, it turned into a complete rout.
Morale was broken.
And so, the bandit group was defeated.