The Skilled Swimmer Drowns
Comparable to the Heavenly Dao's purging of evil—no wonder it was the Sword Pavilion!
At that moment, Fu Qian marveled inwardly, and didn't mind at all being counted among the wicked.
That astonishing strike was truly incredible. Just a brief touch had unleashed such devastating power—it was hard to believe it had come from that rotten sword.
Even Old Man Li He, who had broken through in the heat of battle, couldn't match its power.
Wasn't this the ultimate realm that so many teachers and students at the Sword Participation Institute pursued?
It really was hidden inside the Sword Pavilion—or, to be precise, inside the Sword Pavilion as it stood now.
Most of the roof had been torn away. Perhaps, in all the years this quiet corner had stood, it was the first time it had basked in such glorious sunshine...
Amid the cries of alarm around him, the gatekeeper's presence was rapidly drawing closer...
The destruction creeping up his arm had slowed, but it hadn't stopped completely...
Taking it all in, Fu Qian used his other, still-intact hand to remove the "Messenger" from his face.
Interesting...
The light dimmed. The antique tables and chairs came into view again. Back in the Warehouse, Fu Qian surveyed his surroundings, then finally looked at his other hand.
It was still just a bare elbow. Returning hadn't changed anything.
Looking on the bright side, at least he could still come back to the city.
Fu Qian raised his head and gazed upward, as if looking into the endless heights.
There was nothing up there, yet some sort of strange connection remained. Even inside the Warehouse, it didn't feel as though it had been completely severed.
He'd been right before. After that meteor shower, the Academy had become more lively