Sand left the floor, a miniature sandstorm forming as Chen Changsheng instantly vanished.
With a light crack, a clear sword slash appeared on the wall of the Hall of Washing Away Dust.
Chen Changsheng appeared once more, already two zhang away from his original position. It was nigh impossible to tell just how he had come to be there.
Chen Changsheng espied out of the corner of his eyes that the sword slash on the wall was about an inch deep, and the white stone beneath could be glimpsed.
This place was the Pope's Green Leaf World, in between the real and unreal. The buildings here were abnormally sturdy, and the Hall of Washing Away Dust had its own defensive array. Yet one casual wave of Zhuang Huanyu's sword had been able to leave such a deep slash in the wall. From this, one could imagine just how much harm this blow would have inflicted if it had struck his body.
