Chu Yuan's gaze penetrated the deepest parts of the Divine Prison, vaguely discerning the presence of a person.
This individual was gaunt, sitting cross-legged on the ground, with his wrists and ankles shackled by chains inscribed with runes.
A glowing red beam enveloped him!
He was extremely calm, so composed that it didn't seem like he was held captive.
The man's aura was extremely strange, emitting a sword-like atmosphere, yet different from Li Jianqing's sword.
Li Jianqing's sword was mighty, the master of the Sky-slicing Sword, the sword of the starry skies.
But this man was lonely and forlorn—no matter how busy a place you put him in, he would be that solitary figure, a misfit. Like the seasons transitioning into autumn and winter, his aura was free-spirited yet sad, mixed with a ruthless, deadly aura.
He was a lone swordsman.
The presence of the Sword Saint!
