There was still a month left before the opening of Wuyuan Palace, and the Martial World had shifted from extreme activity to extreme stillness. This stillness was not one of desolation, but like boiling water about to explode, amassing a terrifying force.
From the various secret realms and dangerous territories, large numbers of martial artists emerged every day, some covered in blood, some with serious injuries, and some with their fighting spirit soaring.
All the major sects also had one master after another leave their seclusion to make final adjustments.
The wind rises before the storm.
Ten Sword Sect.
At Ten Sword Mountain, where the Suzerain resided.
"Liye, your mastery of the Ten Sword Arts has already surpassed your father's. If we were to compete now, your father couldn't withstand your three hundred moves."
Zhan Renxiong, Suzerain of the Ten Sword Sect, looked at his beloved son with satisfaction.
