Zhao Layue held out her right hand.
Jing Jiu held out his left hand.
They clasped hands.
The wind rose.
The flying sword pierced the sky.
A hollow appeared amid the clouds and mist, then gradually closed.
A faint red line remained in the air, giving off a slight scent of blood.
The two had not said goodbye to anyone, nor even exchanged a word with the Western Prince, which seemed somewhat rude. But too much had happened that day, and the shock in people's hearts had yet to subside; it never occurred to them to think of this. The few who did even felt that only such behavior seemed to fit the impression that girl from Divine End Peak had left on them.
Watching the red line gradually vanish in the sea breeze, Xiang Wanshu murmured, "Could that be the Unthought Sword the True Person left behind?"
As he spoke, he was filled with feeling, his clean-cut face bearing a look of admiration and longing.
The Zhongzhou Sect had even more talented disciples, and he was merely one of them. He knew all the better that the world's geniuses were beyond counting.
What sort of person could be called a true genius? Only time could tell.
Countless former geniuses had been stopped at some threshold of cultivation and faded into the crowd, until they vanished without a trace. Such things had happened far too often in the cultivation world.
Who had been the truly peerless genius of the past several centuries? Naturally, the one who had gone the farthest.
In a thousand years, only one person on the Chaotian Continent had ascended: Jingyang.
The more gifted someone was, like Xiang Wanshu, the better he understood just how extraordinary True Person Jingyang had been.
Whenever Zhao Layue's inheritance of True