Time flies, years pass by like a shuttle, a century is but a flick of a finger, life too is but a moment, in the blink of an eye, the world changes beyond recognition.
Five hundred years later, at Wandao School.
In a quiet room, the door gently opened, and a man emerged, his black hair as dark as ink, his white clothes surpassing the snow. He once bore a spirited and heroic appearance, but between his brows wore nothing but fatigue, aversion, and resistance, his demeanor heavy with weariness as if he were a walking corpse.
Despite this, he still forced himself to stand, dragging his heavy steps as he made his way to the Academy Treasury.
"Yo!"
"Isn't this our great swordsman of Mysterious Heaven?"
Upon his arrival, a woman with a graceful figure and flirtatious demeanor at the Treasury counter immediately teased with a chuckle, "So, the time has come to return the Flying Sword?"
"Hmph!"
