The glimmer of sword light gathered along the blade grew ever brighter.
At the tip of the Kunlun Sword, a dazzling wheel of sword light slowly took shape, radiant as the blazing sun.
Amid the ruins, He Chen gazed up at the sight in despair.
He knew that beneath this strike, even his body as a Seventh Realm Martial Venerable had no chance of survival.
Decades of bitter cultivation would come to nothing in a single morning. Yet at this juncture between life and death, the madness and defiance in the Northern Desert Martial Venerable's eyes strangely faded, replaced by a calm that seemed almost like release.
"So be it."
He smiled bleakly and looked at the figure atop the wall, who stood like a god of the Sword Dao. With the last of his strength, he rasped, "To die at the hands of the Kunlun Sword's true master... is no disgrace!"
With that, he slowly closed his eyes.
Atop the wall, Lu Changfeng stood with sword in hand, looking down at the figure in the ruins who calmly awaited death. His fingertips moved slightly, sending this Northern Desert Martial Venerable on his final journey.
The immense sword light gathered along the blade, radiant as the blazing sun, suddenly descended.
Hiss-
There was no earth-shaking explosion, no force that threatened to destroy heaven and earth. The sword light pierced straight through him. He Chen, his eyes calmly closed, abruptly stiffened, and the bleak, relieved smile froze on his face.
The Witch God Cult's Martial Venerable, who had once shaken the Northern Desert, possessed a divine weapon, and dreamed of watering his horses in the Yellow River, breathed his last and fell amid the ruins beneath Elm Grove City's walls.
One sword strike secured the Northern Frontier!
With He Chen dead,