When Heavenly Secrets remained hidden, it meant someone had erased the traces they had left within heaven and earth.
Yet the difficulty of this step varied. Some methods were lofty, some lowly; some crude, some exquisitely subtle in Dao techniques.
But no matter what, it was impossible to turn everything into complete nothingness.
That faint foundation between cultivation and heaven and earth always remained.
Now, Lu Qing caught hold of a wisp of information.
It was a breeze from afar. Lu Qing did not pry into others' Dao lineages, nor did he excessively spread out his Divine Sense.
It was merely that wherever his gaze reached now, he could see very, very far.
Three years passed.
In the cultivation world, banquet invitations were stretched out over periods measured in years.
If thorough preparations were needed and important guests were expected, invitations would be sent a hundred years in advance.
This was to prevent guests from certain Dao lineages from entering seclusion to cultivate, contemplate heaven and earth, observe the stars, or study wind, rain, thunder, and lightning—only to find that a hundred years had passed.
Thus, Sword-Pillow Mountain's invitation banquet had only opened recently.
On the eve of wind and rain, all was silent.
A thunderclap rang out from the most minute of places.
Where Lu Qing's gaze fell.
A vast mountain range lay somewhere between illusion and reality. All manner of sword intents and Dao Rhymes emerged without end. It was clearly only a single mountain range, yet every Sword Dao formed a mountain peak of its own—layer upon layer of peaks, layer upon layer of Sword Dao.
And Lu Qing saw that other world.
No, to be precise, it was a mountain.
Hum.
Dong.
It sounded like a sword cry, yet also like a stone falling into a