The void realm had neither wind nor sound, as silent as a tomb. Countless thunderstorms lay hidden in the airspace higher above, as though they might fall at any moment, yet might never fall at all. They looked like the eyes of purple, red, and blue monsters, staring at everything below.
Jing Jiu looked at his right hand, and at every part of his body, confirming that some very subtle-or rather, mysterious-changes had taken place within him.
Accepting Liu Ci's invitation in the ruined temple on the desolate mountain, becoming the sword with which he would kill Nan Qu and Xilai, had meant taking the most important step into that river.
He did not know what would happen afterward. The answers he had ultimately received to the questions he had put to the two Nan Qus were still Nan Qu's answers.
None of that mattered. He had never doubted himself. The reason he had kept refusing Liu Ci all these years, unwilling to take this step, was that he was worried about something else.
He looked toward Shaoming Island on the sea. From the deployment of the Zhongzhou Sect, One-Thatch Studio, and the other great Righteous Path sects, he could guess that his senior brother should be on that island.
Did you calculate all this beforehand? If he really is that ghost, then you may indeed win this war in the end-but will you still have a chance to enjoy it?
Thinking of these things, he looked toward a certain place in the sky, only to discover that Liu Ci was no longer there.
Rain drifted through the sky.
It was not heavy, and stopped after falling for only a short while. Many cultivators' clothes had not even gotten wet.
Even those with a few drops on their