The obsidian coffin was colossal, similar to a small mountain. Chen Changsheng and Xu Yourong stood within the coffin, as though they were standing within a mountain. They were unsure of how much time had passed.
Xu Yourong followed the normal order, and viewed the images one by one. Her footsteps moved slowly, from left to right. Chen Changsheng’s order was the opposite of hers, and slowly moved from right to left. Memorizing was much easier than comprehending and grasping it, but to memorize such profound and indescribable sword moves was not an easy task.
After an unknown period of time, Chen Changsheng’s left arm touched her shoulder. Only then did the two return to her senses and realize that they had already met again.
If it was Tang Thirty-Six, he would probably frivolously and cockily comment, “What a coincidence, actually meeting you here.”
