A breeze passed through the Basketball Court once more.
The snow and ash left the ground, carrying hundreds of millions of strands of sword intent hundreds of meters into the air, then slowly drifted down.
Snow Ji descended and slowly released Jing Jiu's hand.
Even someone as powerful as her felt a little reluctant at the moment she let go.
Both were forms of invincibility, but holding One Sword for All Things and cutting down everything felt even more exhilarating.
Her hair was completely soaked, and the few beads of sweat on her face had become rivers. Sweat trickled down to her feet, wetting the ground.
Monk of Joy took a towel out of the Great Nirvana and offered it to her without a word, his eyes full of worry. Just as he had thought earlier, sweating was only an ordinary expenditure for normal humans, but extremely rare for Daoist cultivators. For it to happen to Snow Ji showed all the more that the earlier sword strike had taken an extremely heavy toll on her.
Snow Ji showed no intention of taking the handkerchief. Expressionless, she reached out to retrieve the Red Cloth, only to find her hand grasping empty air.
The Red Cloth had long since burned to powder in the atmosphere.
Jing Jiu stood beside Snow Ji, looking at the sword light in the sky that had yet to fade completely, utterly bewildered, unsure what exactly had just happened.
Seeing her brother's pitiful state, Flower Creek worried that he would catch cold and hurriedly took clothes from the Luggage Bag and handed them to him.
She followed Jing Jiu's gaze toward the sky. Admiration suddenly appeared on her little face, and she said, "It looks like fireworks."
Snow Ji glanced back at her without speaking.
Earlier, after Jing