The short elder clutched that gourd of wine in his hands, but completely forgot to drink from it. He stared downwards towards the fur-clad youth. The sword-intent radiating from the youth was incomparably firm and resolved, and it continuously resonated with the glowing words on the stone wall.
"Epochal Transmission!"
"Senior Northwalker is transmitting his sword intent to him. And, from the looks of it, this fur-clad youth seems to be receiving it with ease; clearly, he too has the heart of a true Sword Immortal." The short elder took a deep breath, tamping down his excitement, then turned and sent mentally with a howl, "Junior apprentice-brother Diancai, hurry the hell out!"
"Hurry the hell out!"
"Hurry the hell out!"
His voice transmitted through the air, past countless layers of restrictive spells, and entered the ears of a black-robed, black-haired man who was currently seated in the lotus position atop a jade bed.
