"The fortunes of the Taoist Sect belong to the capable."
"Why must you make a futile struggle?" Bai Shuang Sword Master looked at Lu Qingshan expressionlessly.
Having stayed in the Seventh Tribulation Realm for four thousand years, Bai Shuang Sword Master made no progress in cultivation, yet he perfected one move.
"Frost... kills all grass!"
It was like a painting spread between Heaven and Earth.
In an instant, everything was silent, leaving only snowflakes drifting down.
The snowflakes gathered into lines, becoming segments of Frost Sword.
Majestic and grand, it seemed not of this world, blurry and ethereal.
This sword, refined over four thousand years, was menacing.
Segments upon segments formed swords.
Countless swords.
The snow vanished, leaving only swords.
This was the singularity in Heaven and Earth.
Time and space seemed still, frozen.
