"Of the three tribulations, one is gone."
"Of the divine sword, half has slipped free."
The step Lu Changfeng took forward pressed savagely upon He Chen's heart, like a sharp sword suspended above his head.
Clutching his bleeding wrist, the Northern Desert's Martial Venerable was pale as paper, his chest heaving violently.
He finally understood.
From beginning to end, this man had never considered him worth a glance.
That last strike had broken his Bi'an, shattered his Mountain Tribulation, and turned his Wolf Calamity against him... it had seemed earth-shaking, yet to that man, it was as effortless as plucking something at hand.
As placid as drifting clouds and a gentle breeze.
He, meanwhile, had poured everything into his two supreme arts, the Ten Thousand Spirits Harmonization Art and the Witch God Four Spirits Tribulation, exhausting his strength and ingenuity without so much as touching the man's robes. Instead, his wrist had been cut to the bone, and he was about to lose his divine sword.
The gap.
What a vast, despair-inducing gap it was!
"No..."
He Chen lowered his head and looked at the Kunlun Sword in his grasp, ringing incessantly as it struggled desperately toward the city wall. The crack deep in his eyes finally split wide open.
He was going to lose it.
This supreme treasure, which had enabled him to break through to the seventh realm and kindled his towering ambition to "water his horses in the Yellow River and march south into the Central Plains," was about to abandon him and fly to that man.
"Impossible..."
He jerked his head up. His eyes, shimmering with a dark blue glow, turned scarlet with utter defiance and madness. "Everything I've painstakingly built was for this day! This sword is mine! I brought it out of that deadly