In an instant, the world before "Zhou Ziyin" fell apart, dissolving into black and white.
When he opened his eyes again, the scene had changed completely.
"..."
The sect gates.
Demonic clouds filled the sky, swallowing the last sliver of daylight. Demonic flames surged and spread, and the sect's floating islands crashed down.
Zhou Ziyin swayed, beads of blood dripping from him. He no longer had the spiritual power to control the ancient sword and could only hold it in his hand.
With a thud, he slumped to the ground.
"One of the Central Region's hundred and eight immortals, the Suppressing-Evil Sword Immortal..."
The devil cultivator walked toward him, step by step, treading on the corpses of his fellow disciples.
"Truly impressive, to have kept fighting until now..."
The devil cultivator casually crushed the head of a cultivator on the ground and looked at him mockingly. "Do you know? You sword cultivators are my favorite ones to kill..."
He seemed to want a good chat with Zhou Ziyin.
"Trampling your so-called Dao hearts and sword intent beneath my feet, watching your despairing faces..."
"..."
Zhou Ziyin sat motionless on the ground, the ancient sword planted beside him.
Just as he had hundreds of years ago, outside Xianyang Township, atop the Three Harms Tomb.
"Hmph. Utterly dull."
The devil cultivator snorted coldly.
"Die!"
Waves of black flame swept over him. No miracle occurred.
Zhou Ziyin died, and his Dao perished.
"Heh."
The devil cultivator sneered.
"A genius of the Central Region, a leading light of the immortal Dao? Before my Dao, you're still nothing but a lamb awaiting slaughter..."
"Hmm?"
The devil cultivator's expression shifted, and he looked toward the cliff.
Zhou Ziyin's remains had been obliterated, yet the ancient sword still stood where it had been.
The waves of flame