"You're back."
Chen Xuanji's voice was soft, so soft a single breath seemed enough to scatter it.
But you knew how much those words held.
Seven days and nights of holding out, seven days without aid, seven days of watching the people beside him fall one after another, seven days of waiting for someone who might never return.
He said none of that, but you heard it all.
"I'm back," you said.
Then you said nothing more. You simply swung your sword.
The Dingjun Sword became a bolt of dark-gold lightning in your hand, slashing toward the uncanny soldiers surging forward.
You did not need to think or aim. Your body had already memorized the rhythm of battle—sidestep, raise your arm, sweep, cleave.
Every movement was precise enough to have been measured with a ruler. Every stroke took an enemy's life.
Luo Yiyi stood at your side, silver-white sword light flashing ceaselessly.
Her sword was fast, so fast that even its afterimages were impossible to make out.
But every time she swung, her left shoulder trembled slightly.
A strand of Great Emperor Desire's pink light had grazed it, leaving a wound she had yet to treat.
Chen Xuanji stood behind you.
His robes were soaked in blood, his enemies' and his own.
Only the final layer of his Pill Fire Barrier remained, and it could gutter out at any moment.
His face was white as paper, but his eyes were still bright.
He looked at you as though you were a candle that had yet to be blown out in a raging storm.
As you swung your sword, you swept your senses across the entire battlefield.
To the north, the Peerless War King was locked in combat with three Immortal Emperor Supremes. He could no longer lift his left arm,