Zhiyang flicked a finger, and the Spirit Sword spun through the air into his hand.
Feeling the sword intent surging within him, he dared say that even without divine powers of his own, this sword intent alone would let him battle an early Purple Mansion True Person without falling behind.
Each of the two men held a sword, their bodies brimming with chilling sword intent. The sight was downright shocking. Fortunately, no one else witnessed it, or they might have been frightened sick.
The emerald blade was clear and lustrous, like a length of fine jade laid out before him. Jiang Yang stroked it, not forgetting to caution him:
"It's fine to say these things between ourselves, but don't go spouting that strange talk outside."
"Heh, if you didn't want me to, I'd never have the chance to open my mouth."
Zhiyang chuckled softly and declared proudly:
"Now that I've become a divine power, of course I should live freely and do as I please. You've spent too long in the sect. You've been steeped in its ways until they've soaked into your bones."
Jiang Yang sighed softly at that. How could he not be serious? Anyone suddenly thrown into this world would have been, let alone a boy of fifteen or sixteen. Even if his early days had not quite been like treading on thin ice, he had been cautious at every turn. How could he have dared be careless along the way?
The weight of those dozen-odd years of his former life had long since been buried beneath years of cultivation. Even in recollection, they felt far too distant. Zhiyang's words were precisely the thoughts hidden in his own heart.
"All right, I know where to draw the line."
Zhiyang pillowed his head on his hands and lay