On the vast, ancient battlefield, in a strange vortex of sinisterness.
Jian Wushuang sat cross-legged with his eyes closed. He had already sat there for three hundred years.
In front of him, there was an image. In the image, there was a white-haired lady moving her finger and a sword shadow containing boundless rage substantiated in the air.
She formed a sword with her willpower and swung it.
Without any movement or noises.
In the void tens of thousands of miles before her, the head of an ancient expert that had struck fear into Jian Wushuang stood was cut off.
"Phew!"
Jian Wushuang let out a deep sigh and he slowly opened his eyes.
"I have been here to comprehend for three hundred years and my swordsmanship has improved tremendously. It's time to leave," Jian Wushuang smiled.
He wandered in the ancient battlefield for six thousand years.
