Not a Swordsman, Hearts Cannot Meet

Chen Ping'an suddenly rose to his feet. His view opened wide, and he respectfully cupped his fists toward a visitor in the distance.

The Old Great Sword Immortal was gone. That made him half guest and half host of the Sword Qi Great Wall, so of course he had to help receive visitors.

Chen Ping'an looked out across the vast southern lands and spotted an unexpected elder.

He had no idea what divine ability the man had used to render the Jiazi Tent's carefully laid Mountain Water Restriction all but useless.

When the gulf between their realms was this wide, thinking harder would do no good.

He sincerely envied the elder who had gouged out his own eyes and cast them into two worlds. Heaven was vast, earth was vast—where could he not travel if he wished? If he wanted to return home, who could stop him? If he shut his doors to visitors, who would dare come knocking?

That was how one ought to climb the path of cultivation.

The Dragon Lord grew grave at the man's sudden appearance, as though facing a formidable enemy.

A gray robe drifted onto the southern city wall. Sword Qi gathered into a hazy figure, but the Dragon Lord said nothing. He merely stared at the sole great exception in the Savage World.

For ten thousand years, this eccentric Old Blind Man had more or less kept to the rules. He had stayed on his own little patch of land, fond of driving taboo-breaking Great Demons and the golden armored divine person to move the Hundred Thousand Great Mountains. He claimed he wanted to fashion a Mountain and River Scroll so clean that nothing in it offended the eye.

The Dragon Lord was wary of him, but felt not the slightest reverence. In