Beneath the sea of stars, the dark earth stretched boundlessly. A cluster of firelight stood out sharply in the darkness; drawing closer, one could see tens of thousands of cultivators seated around a massive campfire.
Li Ya sat meditating at the very front, his treasured sword laid across his knees.
He was healing his wounds while comprehending the sword.
Over the long years, he had met too many people who had helped him—peerless mighty beings, immortals and gods descending to the mortal world. The aid of so many fated people had long since allowed his sword path to carve out a road of its own.
No matter what intentions those people had held when they helped him, he was still himself. Everything he had experienced had forged the sword path he possessed today.
In the great battle against the Three Golden Crows, although he had been the one laughing at the end, one Golden Crow had escaped. He understood that this would draw an even greater calamity, and he had to become as strong as possible. Only then could he protect the disciples around him.
The surrounding disciples did not disturb him. In twos and threes, they quietly discussed today's battle, or else spoke of the path of cultivation.
Day and night alternated.
Several months passed in the blink of an eye.
Li Ya did not find a place to hide, because as long as he did not leave this Great Thousand World, hiding anywhere would be meaningless.
Then, early that morning, not long after the sky had brightened, firelight descended from the heavens, making the earth seem as though it lay inside a furnace. The tens of thousands of disciples following Li Ya looked up, and every one of them frowned.
They saw a colossal Golden Crow with a