Can Be Called a Close Friend

Chen Xin looked at his transformation and suddenly burst into laughter.

The Seven Kill Avatar seemed to answer that laughter, its Sword Intent sweeping out in all directions.

He gripped his sword with both hands and raised the blade above his head. At that moment, every soul ring lit up at once.

He held nothing back, reserved nothing. This strike was the result of five full years of tempering since he entered rank ninety-seven—the crystallization of his entire path of the sword.

Zhou Qiubai opened his eyes.

The instant he opened them, Chen Xin suddenly experienced a completely unprecedented sensation.

It was strange, as though he stood atop a lofty mountain while all the surrounding peaks gathered toward him.

The gentleness of spring breeze brushing through a valley, the bleakness of autumn wind sweeping across the plains, the grandeur of a summer sunset, the cold clarity of a bright moon on a winter night—feelings that should have belonged to different seasons all surged toward him at once.

Ning Fengzhi at the edge of the field felt it as well.

He could not help lowering his head to look at his feet, then raising it to glance at the main peak of Seven Treasure Mountain behind him.

At that moment, he even had an illusion: the stone slabs beneath his feet were still stone slabs, and the mountain was still a mountain, yet the mountain was no longer a mountain.

To see a mountain was not to see a mountain; to see water was not to see water; to see the sea was not to see the sea.

Yang Guyun still said nothing, because he had witnessed Zhou Qiubai's sword when he reached the summit of Canghai Tower. He had personally experienced the artistic conception of all things returning to one.