Qin Yang looked at the scene before him and inexplicably felt a sense of déjà vu. He seemed to have seen something similar before, but he could not remember where.
Everything they had encountered along the way had been chaos twisted beyond recognition. Only this place was like a tangible, concrete memory.
It looked as though this was the very moment Shura had comprehended the Demon Sword.
The Shura of old also seemed to have been in a crazed state, but he was different from before. This was the madness of someone who had buried himself in researching something.
The current Shura, however, was more than merely twisted. He was no different from a madman, yet he did not think he was mad at all. He even believed he was right.
Qin Yang overlooked this memory as it replayed over and over. Each time he watched, he seemed to notice something different.
He crouched there and did nothing but watch.
For the first ten viewings, his thoughts were basically: this melon peel was a particularly unique sort of melon peel even among lunatics.
After watching it over a hundred times, he knew every tiny movement Shura made—what he would do after each step, the shifts in his gaze, the changes in his movements. He even began to place himself in that moment when Shura crossed the limit and underwent a qualitative transformation.
His fixed impression began to fade, and he started focusing on the matter itself.
He had always felt that something was off. That had been his first reaction, and it was also why he had not immediately destroyed it the instant he saw it.
A cultivator's vague intuition did not arise for no reason. Once it appeared, there had to be a problem. If no problem could be