Tang Chen raised the Clear Sky Hammer high in his hand, and in an instant, it transformed into a colossal object.
"Great Sumeru Hammer."
Tang Chen uttered in a low voice.
Before the hammer fell, the wind had already arrived.
Centered on him, the earth churned, shattered stones flew, and the air compressed into a white wall of force that surged outward in all directions.
Zhou Qiubai stood in the shadows, looking up at the giant hammer before glancing back at Yang Guyun, who was watching him.
Neither needed words, yet they saw the same thought in each other's eyes.
Zhou Qiubai turned around. The White Clothes Sword slowly rose, its tip pointing at the red sun pressing down from above. The blade suddenly lit up.
Heaven and earth had their seasons, all things had their order; life continued without end, spring gave way to autumn.
His sword moved.
Its momentum was like spring waters breaking ice, summer rain piercing a forest, autumn winds sweeping leaves, winter snow blanketing mountains.
The essence of the four seasons unfolded layer by layer within that single sword strike. The flexible blade no longer seemed like a sword, but a river of light flowing out from the depths of time, surging upward against that red sun.
Yang Guyun moved as well.
The spear tip lightly dragged across the ground, carving a deep furrow.
The spear followed the man, and the man turned with the momentum.
The spring river refused not the old year's snow; a streak of azure edge shone through the endless night.
The spear emerged from a cold abyss, startling ghosts into weeping; the dragon's cry turned nine times, splitting the primordial sky.
Twin lights soared into the heavens, and even the hundred-zhang red wheel lost its brilliance.
This body did not