At Flying Waterfall Cliff, a curtain of water like the River of Heaven pouring into the mortal world flowed without end, grinding the sharp-edged rocks below into smooth mirrors, nearly as sleek and gleaming as the clear waves themselves.
The deafening roar of the falling waterfall never ceased for even a moment, leaving one vexed and agitated, as though a rage had built up in the chest and desperately sought release.
Mountains and water, with nature's breath thick in the air, should have made for an excellent setting.
Yet when the mountains were precipitous and the crashing waters battered the ears into chaos, it was absolutely no good place to live.
Before arriving at Flying Waterfall Cliff, Xiang Yang had followed Master Liu and encountered many masters of the sword, each with an utterly different bearing.
Some scorched like blazing fire; some were cold as ice; some were like venomous snakes hidden in the grass, making every hair stand on end; others were like kings of beasts, brimming with domineering might.
Different swordsmen, yet equally profound attainments—any one of them, placed in the outside world, would have been a master renowned across a region. Yet here they were, willing to bury themselves amid the mountains and wilderness, cultivating bitterly. This made Xiang Yang all the more eager to see what manner of elegance Sword Obsessed, master of the Sword Hall, possessed.
Amid fragrant flowers and grasses, forests of rough trees, and reefs and rushing waters that seemed to have endured since time immemorial, a not particularly tall figure stood suspended in the air. From afar, he looked as though someone had hung him upside down in the heart of the waterfall.
"That is the master of our Sword Hall, and one of the two gate masters of the Opening Edge