Wang Chen didn't know what was going through the heads of the spectators.
Even if he did, he wouldn't have cared. His mind was running on overdrive, ripping through memories like a starving beast through fresh meat, and a wide, borderline-psychotic grin tried to spread across his face.
Sword Domain: Infinite Sword Rain!
Eternal Heart of the Sword!!
The memories flooded him—one hundred and ten years as the Sword Saint in Green Sky World. Years of slaughter. Years of enlightenment. Years of sword intent forged from solitude, blood, and broken heavens themselves.
They played in his head like a lucid dream.
For a heartbeat, he genuinely had to restrain himself from throwing away the entire "mysterious aloof expert" persona and cackling into the sky like some freshly escaped lunatic.
Then he looked at the demon.
And pity flickered in his eyes.
Pity.
