That sword light illuminated the world above the clouds.
Nan Zheng saw the Hanging Mountain in the night sky and knew it was Cloud Terrace.
She should have been very familiar with the Hanging Mountain, having visited it many times over the years, but only tonight did she see its true appearance for the first time.
She knew this was probably also the last time she would see it.
The sword light that had pierced the firmament and descended slashed toward the Hanging Mountain.
With enemies invading, all the formations within Cloud Terrace had already been activated. Now, encountering this sword light, they reacted automatically, yet could not hold it back for even a moment.
With an unimaginably thunderous boom, the great hall atop the peak was cleaved in two by the sword light, exploding into countless splinters and fragments of stone.
That great hall was the place Jing Jiu and Zhao Layue had once visited, where the victors of each year's Four Seas Banquet received an audience with the Western Prince and their rewards.
It was easy to imagine that, whether or not the Four Seas Banquet continued after tonight, many things would undergo irreversible changes.
After cleaving the great hall, the sword light continued downward, deep into the mountain. Amid piercing sounds of grinding and cutting, a straight fissure appeared in the cliffs, spewing countless fragments of stone and clouds of dust.
The halls and formations within the Hanging Mountain shattered on contact with the sword light, as fragile as glass.
The grinding and cutting grew ever more piercing, unbearably harsh, before gradually deepening, like the cries of a true dragon.
The fissure grew deeper and deeper. Countless stones and grains of sand fell toward the sea, and the Hanging Mountain gradually split into two halves, teetering on