Watching in the direction He Fuqiong's avatar had departed, the Ancestor Sword Spirit let out a sigh.
The Nine Great Sects' sect-protecting treasures all had exceptionally high standards.
They were enshrined in the forbidden grounds of their respective sects, and only acted when a sect faced a grave crisis.
Rarely would one choose a cultivator as its master.
And the current Sect Master of the Cold Abyss Sword Sect fit its criteria perfectly!
But regrettably, He Fuqiong had eyes only for the lifebound sword that had grown alongside him, step by step, from humble beginnings...
Besides, the Demonic Cultivator who had just fought Cheng Dun was quite suitable too, but he used a blade...
As it mused, the Ancestor Sword trembled faintly, turned around, and returned to the Cold Abyss Sword Sect, heading for Qijian Mountain.
※※※
Five-Color Valley.
Countless cracks had been carved through the sky and earth. Amid the sounds of this world crumbling under the strain, the ever-widening fissures continued to spread in every direction.
Pei Ling was covered in wounds, pale bone showing through here and there. Filthy blood spattered his face, and blood dripped from his Xuan Shan. He looked utterly wretched, yet his aura kept climbing, growing more and more formidable.
In midair, He Fuqiong stood calmly with his feet on empty air, his Magic Robe snapping in the wind like the flapping wings of crows. A jade-like flying sword, concealing a trace of violet, hovered beside him. Its clear light flowed like water, shimmering brightly.
The two faced off from afar, their auras refined into taut threads as they fixed their attention on each other.
"Senior Sword God, please!"
"Please!"
As soon as the words fell, He Fuqiong acted without the slightest hesitation. With a thought, the flying sword at his side abruptly