The world was silent, leaving only the sound of swords.
Tu Hu stood upon the scorched earth, his white hair like snow, a golden giant sword in his hand murmuring, as if countless heroic souls were issuing an indomitable roar across millennia.
The sudden reversal plunged the battlefield into deathly silence.
Xingtong leaned on the Spiritual Power Longsword, breathing heavily, her crystalline purple eyes wide in disbelief and shock.
She gazed at the billowing white-haired figure, her mind blank.
The ancestor she had known since childhood, in her eyes, was an elder long plagued by hidden ailments, needing special liquor to suppress his pain, more often a silent guardian of civilization, a living history... Yet at this moment, he displayed power akin to a god.
She recalled the helplessness of past generations regarding the ancestor's injuries, remembering report after report stating it was an unexplainable anomaly, surpassing understanding.
