The mask looked like some glass object on the verge of shattering completely, covered in cracks.
Of course.
The most conspicuous crack—or rather, mark—was ultimately the sword scar that had been drawn straight leftward across Ling Wuyuan's brow.
And the existence of that sword scar.
Very directly proved one thing.
Shen Zhenhai's attack just now had indeed successfully struck Ling Wuyuan.
This left him deeply perplexed. Since he had truly hit Ling Wuyuan, why had the other party shown no reaction? Nor had Ling Wuyuan simply waited for that mask, on the verge of completely shattering, to turn into fragments and fall away bit by bit.
He chose to remove it himself.
Before their eyes.
As he looked at the mask in his hand, covered in cracks, a rare trace of regret appeared on his face.
Though this thing was not valuable, merely a little toy he had casually made when he had first joined the Snow Moon Cloud Heaven Pavilion, in order to fit the sect's aesthetic.
Still, to be fair.
As someone rather sentimental.
After using it continuously for several years, he did feel somewhat sorry to see it damaged.
One had to know.
Before this.
Even those more precious rune weapons had not been valued so highly by Ling Wuyuan.
And at this moment.
As Ling Wuyuan took off his badly damaged mask of his own accord, many people, Shen Zhenhai included, finally saw Ling Wuyuan's appearance.
For a time.
Cries of surprise immediately rose and fell from every area filled with spectators.
Among them.
Most people were merely astonished that Ling Wuyuan's appearance was far better than they had imagined.
As for those with exceptionally sharp eyes, they were astonished by the youthfulness on Ling Wuyuan's face.
That youthfulness that had not yet been worn away