The last time this sword was sharpened, Great Liang still stood. The one time it was drawn from its sheath, it buried Great Liang.
Now.
I wonder if the sword is still sharp.
Perhaps.
In the eyes of the world, with more and more ancient Powerhouses emerging—Immortals and those of the Innate Realm alike—the Wind Snow Sword Immortal's blade had surely grown too dull to cut anything by now.
"Lord Su."
"No."
"Then again, I still prefer calling you Captain Xu…"
From the lead war chariot, Sikong emerged. He was decrepit with age, and a complex emotion flickered in his cold, pale eyes.
"He is the strongest powerhouse below the Innate Realm. Get any closer, and you will die."
The Yaksha Ghost tried to stop him.
It was not out of any deep bond between them, but only because the other had promised him the cultivated flesh and blood of one hundred thousand Liang People, a promise yet to be fulfilled.
Sikong paid him no heed.
He knew.
