Halfway up the mountain, Jiang Ping carefully surveyed his surroundings.
He stood in a broad Sword Fighting Arena. Laws flowed across the sky, restricting his movements to a few miles around him.
Jiang Ping walked to the edge and looked down. "Sword Five" stood in an identical Sword Fighting Arena below.
Jiang Ping had met him before. He was a True Disciple of the previous generation from Qingling Palace, and he was quite strong: one of his Orders had broken through the sixth level.
Sword Five was looking around too. When he raised his head, his eyes met Jiang Ping's, but the Rules prevented them from communicating, so they could only stare at each other.
Jiang Ping looked up again. "Sword Seven" was actually a True Saint, and he too was from Qingling Palace.
"Could everyone above me have been a True Saint captured to serve as a Sword Disciple?"
His expression turned strange. Besides him, seventeen other unlucky souls had been abducted to serve as Mountain Guardians, and most seemed to be True Saints.
"In years past, the last six Sword Disciples were all powerful Dao Monarchs."
Turtle Shell spoke again.
He had watched before, and that was a true spectacle. Geniuses from all over Xuanhuang had taken part, with outstanding talents from across the world contending against one another. It had been a grand sight, unprecedented and never to be repeated.
Sadly, it had all passed. The Creation God Sect had been forgotten in Xuanhuang for who knew how many years, leaving only a weapon to remember the past.
Hearing this, Jiang Ping could not help showing his longing. Surely the exceptional talents of those days had been no worse than those of the present.
After a moment's thought, he asked:
"Senior, how long will this Creation God