On the high-speed train, Liu Yao kept stealing glances at Zhang Shaoqin.
Beside them, Xiao Rou and the master of the Three Extremes Sect were doing the same.
Even after an hour had passed, the shock in their hearts had yet to fade.
Flying Swords really existed?
Zhang Shaoqin had not lied to them?
As they recalled everything Zhang Shaoqin had said, did such a Great Cang truly exist?
The incomparably powerful Azure Lord had been debauched and tyrannical.
Bearing Heaven's Mandate, the Azure Lord had wrought endless slaughter, all to carve out the Taiqing River, move Mount Taiqing, and forge an imperial dynasty that would endure for ten thousand generations.
Back then, the waters of the Taiqing River had all run blood-red.
Not a single laborer sent there had returned alive.
Within it lay buried countless corpses and bones.
Wave after wave of rebel armies had risen, but before the Azure Lord, who bore Heaven's Mandate, they had amounted to nothing.
The Three Extremes Sect, Eight Trigrams Gate, Dan Jian Sect, and other Extraordinary factions had joined forces, yet they had still been no match for the Azure Lord.
At that time, Lin Ping appeared.
One man and one sword—or perhaps ten thousand swords—severed Heaven's design and destroyed Great Cang.
In the end, one master and one servant built a hut deep in the mountains, shattered the void, and ascended as immortals.
How magnificent and tumultuous had that been?
"Shao Qin, did martial artists like those described really exist in this world?
Was the Three Extremes Spirit Fist truly that powerful?
Wouldn't that mean Heize might really be able to stand against ten thousand alone?" Xiao Rou asked.
Her heart had already begun to waver.
"They may have existed in the past, but now... they do not." Zhang Shaoqin