What Wang Xian had not expected was that the old man did not leave his room for three days straight.
If not for the occasional snores, he would have thought that the white-bearded old man had died of grief right in front of him.
Even now, Wang Xian still could not understand... Why had the old monk from Black Tortoise Town preferred to burn away his life rather than remain in the Demon Realm?
And so, he spent three whole days studying the flying sword called "Sword City" in his hand.
Under the spring sunlight, Sword City looked small and exquisite. A faint, elusive glow flowed across its blade, making it truly dazzling.
Yet no matter how he tried, he could not make Sword City rise even a foot into the air as he could Cun Changqing's bamboo sword.
In the end, he came to one conclusion: this thing was too heavy.
Held in his hand, it felt like gripping a small mountain, so weighty that his wrist ached.
No wonder the white-bearded old man called this thing "Sword City"... Just imagine a mountain flying through the sky—anyone who saw it would have to keep their distance.
At that thought, Wang Xian suddenly remembered Ye Honglian.
Good heavens, if he ever ran into that crazy woman again, all he had to do was bring out Sword City and shout, "Crazy hag, take my sword!" She would probably flee with her head in her hands before three moves had even passed.
It seemed the white-bearded old man had not been bragging after all.
After all, Wang Xian had personally witnessed Sword City soaring into the heavens that day—truly like a colossal city descending from the sky, suppressing all around it.
After holding back for a long while, Wang Xian finally called