The Sorrow of Wang Duoyu

It could be said that aside from the vanished Heavenly Wasteland Sword, Wang Duoyu's sword had once been the finest spirit sword in the Eastern Phoenix Family.

Back when he had roamed the great desert, it was said that countless young prodigies had trembled at the mere mention of him. No one knew how many heads he had severed.

But after he betrayed the Eastern Phoenix Family, that sword had never been drawn again.

In the imperial city of Jinling, everyone knew him only as a merchant who loved money more than life.

It could be said that aside from Wang Xian, no one knew he had once been an elder of the Eastern Phoenix Family, much less that he was a traitor.

He faced the gloomy sky overhead.

Desperate, Wang Duoyu finally unleashed the sword he had kept to save his life—or rather, the sword he had hidden for years, one he had never even used that time on Broken Dragon Mountain.

The moment it left its sheath, hundreds of deadly sword marks filled the heavens and earth, slashing toward Wang Xian in an instant.

Even Wang Xian hadn't expected this man to go so mad as to use heaven and earth as his battlefield. No—he had truly gathered the power of heaven and earth.

From the sky and the ground, from two directions.

He had gathered the power of the great formation in the alley. This force was naturally no match for the sword those assassins outside the canyon had struck together.

It was like a surging flood rolling across the ground.

Above, more than a hundred strands of Sword Qi slashed at the heavens and earth, intent on taking his head with a single strike.

Clang, clang, clang!

A series of metallic sword cries suddenly rang out