Underworld Palace

The contest between the Immortal Sword and the King Sword had come to an end. The Unbeaten Legend remained invincible upon the sword.

Ning Chen could not be called weak. Through thirty years of wind and rain, he had experienced countless battles of life and death. Whether in combat experience or sword cultivation, he far surpassed everyone of his generation.

The Immortal-Slaying Sword could not be called weak either. Ranked first among the Four Immortal Swords, it had slain a true immortal, its savage name shaking the ancient era. Even with flaws in its swordsmanship, it was no weapon of the mortal world could compare with.

Yet the King Sword remained unbeaten—strong, so strong that there was no excuse for it.

Before the Mishui River, the king who was about to depart looked at the young man before him, now weathered by countless hardships, and sighed softly before turning away.

"Take care."

The king departed beneath the night sky, the hem of his robes trailing in the cold wind and stirring up a veil of dust. Perhaps after this parting, they would never meet again.

"This junior bids senior farewell."

Ning Chen fell silent, then respectfully bowed. He would forever remember the grace of the teachings bestowed upon him in this life.

The cold wind swept past, and the figure in azure drifted away, vanishing into the night.

Not far away, Yin'er jogged over. Looking at the solitary figure by the riverbank, she asked in confusion, "Where did that senior-senior go? Why did he leave just after arriving?"

"To find someone who can bear witness to his sword."

Ning Chen sighed softly. Senior's sword was growing ever stronger. At the heights, the cold was unbearable; the loneliness of finding no opponent was something ordinary people could never understand. He was