On a cold night, the bright moon hung high. Beneath it, four figures stood in silent stillness like stone statues, so quiet it made one's heart palpitate.
The sword aura permeating the mountains and rivers grew ever stronger. All beasts crawled upon the ground, trembling without end.
The Dao Sword of Impermanence resonated with heaven and earth. Though the sword was plain and unadorned, it carried an indescribably powerful pressure that shook the heart.
Before the great waterfall, Prince Yan watched quietly and waited, just as he had for the past twenty-eight years, without the slightest impatience.
At the side, Young Master Xiaobai's gaze drifted constantly between the two of them, a faintly strange light in his eyes. This Divine Land Swordsman had always been said to be obsessed with the sword and indifferent to affection, yet he could not bear to part with Ninth Son of Ink Sect. It was truly difficult to understand.
Not far away, Peacock sat quietly in her wheelchair, watching ahead. Not a ripple could be seen in her beautiful eyes.
The three-month deadline would soon pass. The chaos of the hundred races required the aid of this Great Xia legend. As for whether Ninth Son of Ink Sect could reach the heights of the hundred races, that remained uncertain.
A hundred years ago, the Ancient Battlefield had opened, replenishing the origin of heaven and earth. A group of Fourth Realm experts was destined to emerge in the human world. However, their number would not be great. Who could seize this opportunity depended only on their own fortune.
A night passed. In the east, dawn shone down, gradually dispersing the bitter cold of night. A breeze rose, snowflakes danced, and amid the wind and snow, the Plain-clothed Figure looked toward the rising sun in the