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Dressed in white, with black hair, and a solitary sword, he appeared ethereal like a deity.
There was no singing of the blade, just the wind passing over the tips of the pines as the sword competition began in this manner.
"Chief Ming, I have wasted my time above the length of a sword and within the bounds of the Five Peaks for over eighty years," Ji Changyun slowly drew his sword, his white beard fluttering in the wind, "As a youth, I thought the Kongtong Sword was broad and profound, and should be one of the world's finest. But as time passed, I gradually saw through it. The Kongtong Sword excels in substance but lacks in finesse; it excels in power, but lacks in both fullness and emptiness. In terms of form, the peaks are also scattered. After reaching the end of my path, I sought to advance a mere inch further, only to look back and see a fragmented system that offered no support... All in all, the Kongtong Sword's potential is not that high after all."
