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The waters of the River of Destiny surged in an endless flow.
Su Wanjun stood atop the waves, unmoving as the coursing river lapped at her fair, delicate, unshod feet.
The dreamlike red sword qi in her hand silently transformed, becoming more solid, like a real sword. It emanated a heart-palpitating crimson sword rain.
The young monk clasped his palms and said, “If we fight here, I’ll be like a dragon returning to the sea, but as someone from the Far Shore of Destiny, I’m afraid you’ll face a backlash from the natural order.”
Su Wanjun’s eyes shone with reminiscence.
A long time ago, she traversed the River of Destiny, leading a white mule as she searched for traces of that swordsman.
Before she knew it, far, far too many years had passed.
Now, she’d returned to familiar territory after countless years away. She couldn’t help but feel as if lifetimes had passed.
After a while, she nodded. “Mm, the suppression of the Laws of Destiny will prevent me from displaying even half my power.”
The young monk smiled faintly. “This humble monk has already made it clear that he wishes to withdraw from this...
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