The long line of cultivators, winding like a serpent, had disappeared along the mountain path. Only wisps of Sword Qi still circled in the wind.
A clap of thunder crashed from the sky, yet the ice and snow beneath Wang Xian's feet did not stir in the slightest.
In the eyes of Tang Qingyu and her companions, the young man who had once been just like them had reached such a level of cultivation that they could no longer see how far he had gone.
The square of the Kunlun Sword Sect was filled with cultivators standing frozen in place.
Long Qingmei and Liu Piaopiao, who had arrived with Liu Piaopiao earlier, gazed toward the serpent-like line on the mountain path.
They imagined the brawny man who had descended like a god of slaughter outside the pavilion. They had thought the two sides would fight to a standstill, and that the battle in the wind would last for quite some time.
Who could have guessed that a firework would fall from the sky, swift as thunder?
In an instant, it tore through the battlefield on the mountain path. That invisible Sword Qi filled heaven and earth.
A single sword drawn from its sheath crossed the void, as if it had stabbed into Long Qingmei's heart in the blink of an eye.
That one sword made her think of the scene outside Huiwen City all those years ago.
That night, she had led several assassins to take Wang Xian's life.
In the end, everyone around her had fallen beneath Wang Xian's sword. She alone had escaped by using a wildcat to play the zither.
Later, the half-joking woman had become friends with Wang Xian and asked the boy to promise her a future.
For the sake of that future, she had