No matter what, time could not be left for Huang Sheli to toy with.
For time was history's most fundamental order. No matter how perfect a story, the shifting tides of time could overturn it.
Fortunately, Huang Sheli, who journeyed against the current of time, had yet to reach the pinnacle... otherwise, this volume of history could scarcely stand before her.
Though Zuo Qiu Wu had been pinned within the Mountain and River Disk by Jiang Wang, he still turned the pages of Spring and Autumn—
Beneath that Bodhi tree, a web of dust suddenly formed in secret.
This was the secret art Zuo Qiu Wu had created himself: [Still Thought, What Sorrow].
Its sole purpose was to lock down another's cultivation. Had Huang Sheli not opened her heart to Bodhi, she would not even have been able to see this dust-web.
Even if Huang Sheli's chance to reach the pinnacle in the midst of battle was one in a hundred, Zuo Qiu Wu cautiously erased that "one." Then his gaze flicked up. At the cost of having one finger frostbitten by Jiang Wang, he drew out a thread of literary qi—
High in the vault of heaven, a yellow dragon suddenly dipped down. Its scales were like cartwheels, its whiskers like vines reaching the sky. It sent the light of heaven spinning chaotically and lashed the sea of people into surging waves.
He had naturally cultivated all thirty-six forms of literary qi of the Confucian School to perfection. Yet at this moment, all varieties became one, revealing themselves as dragon-transforming literary qi.
Bearing the weight of Diligent Academy, that literary-qi yellow dragon towered between heaven and sea. In an instant, it crossed Daydream Bridge and pounced toward the ice coffin that froze the sea of consciousness.
More precisely, it