"Heaven stands one foot higher than Ba Zunan! Who could bear even half a Qingju?"
Comment after comment flashed across the screen before them, neat and orderly, forming a tidal wave that drowned their entire field of vision.
The preaching broadcasts of tens of millions had seemingly been thoroughly tamed. No one dared spout wild nonsense anymore; all that remained was screen-flooding.
Matchmaker's delicate body trembled with excitement, yet for the first time, she refused to close the comments on the preaching broadcast.
Again and again, her spiritual sense swept toward the skies, toward the sea of swords, toward the Famous Swords, toward that hazy yet towering figure.
"How... how powerful..."
Normally as eloquent as a lotus blooming from her tongue, she now felt that the words she possessed were so impoverished that no more magnificent language could describe the sight before her.
Matchmaker was far from the only one left speechless. At this moment, every preaching host holding a Palm Apricot could not stop their hands from trembling.
The Apricots of every faction were flooding their screens.
Accompanied by that declaration of "Myriad Swords Return to the Sect," the Five Domains erupted with thunder from level ground. No one could remain calm.
"Heaven stands one foot higher than Ba Zunan! Who could bear even half a Qingju?"
Granted, the latter half of that saying was still difficult for young cultivators of recent decades—those who could only be called ignorant of worldly affairs—to understand.
But as for the first half, young and old alike finally understood it.
That realm where one could turn a hand to gather clouds and flip it to pour rain; that composure with which Famous Swords bowed at a single command; that aura of bearing an emperor's visage upon one's back and reigning supreme alone...
How