The snowfall grew denser at higher altitudes of the mountain ranges.
On the peak of Mount Shu, a thunderous clap tore through the clouds and snow above the four mountaintops that housed the pavilions.
The disciples in robes fairer than snow flew out the pavilions on flying swords like deities, stirring up a windstorm.
Fang Lang went back to his courtyard to change into the white disciple robe of the Sword Guild. He walked out of his courtyard and saw Jiang Linglong holding an oil paper umbrella, shielding her from the snow.
She was also dressed in all-white like a beautiful lotus.
When both of them looked up, the sky above was filled with blade rays from the disciples who were flying to Mount Shu on their swords.
Fang Lang and Jiang Linglong smiled at each other before they held a breath of blade energy and flew out of the Light Pavilion with their swords.
They were like streams that merged into the tide of flying disciples.
