Hundreds of thousands of years flashed by in an instant.
Like a dream.
At this moment, Jiang Ding was refining the Treasure of the Nine Great Daoists, only a thousand years had passed, and he had initially refined it, extracting the essence for the Taiqing Flying Sword.
All past events are merely illusions.
"Butterfly,"
"You are a magnificent butterfly."
Jiang Ding gazed greedily and joyfully at the Six Paths Crystal Butterfly, heavily sealed in his hand, then turned to the sky where a thousand-foot, incredibly dim sapphire butterfly hovered: "How did you know this lord desperately needs a Supreme Soul Fragment?"
"And it's a Supreme Soul Fragment of a Demon Race anomaly!"
"You're truly wonderful!"
"Pfft!"
The sapphire butterfly suddenly spit out a mouthful of fresh blood, its body trembling uncontrollably, nearly losing control.
"Ant!"
"You, when?"
The voice of the Heavenly Illusion Butterfly Master rasped.
