"It's not as exaggerated as you think. Most of the seven thousand ancient martial art practitioners have the same sword essence. You only need to deal with the strongest one." The man said.
"Then, how many are there?" Ling Chuxi's heart relaxed a little as she continued to ask. Alright, the 10000 alpacas in my heart reduced to 9000 alpacas. In fact, he still wanted to say "F * ck you" to this person!
"Is this question important?" The man said indifferently.
Ling Chuxi smiled bitterly. This question was indeed not important. No matter how many strongest cultivators there were, they had to face them one by one. In any case, as long as he could withstand it, he would be able to pass the test and become the fourth lucky person in tens of millions of years. If he couldn't withstand it, then he would be like the owners of those ancient swords in the sword tomb, turning into ashes.
