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It had been ten thousand years since Wang Sheng last saw his own younger sister. Since they were finally about to meet again, he wanted to make it special.
However, now that the moment had come, he realized he had no idea what to do.
Xiaomiao was no longer the little girl he remembered. She was now a young beauty, eighteen years old, with over a hundred thousand months added on top of that.
Thinking about it, Wang Sheng could only sigh at the strangeness of fate, at how the world changed like seas turning into fields, and at how absurd the Time-Cycle Grand Array had been.
He stood within an illusion he had personally forged. With a trace of immortal power and a flicker of spiritual light, he had transformed what had once been nothing more than drifting remnants of some shattered celestial body in the starry space into a small world that hovered between illusion and reality.
Within this space, strands of sword energy swept across the land, carving out mountains, shaping lakes, and spreading patches of grassland.
For a sword cultivator, even creation followed the path of the sword.
Wang...
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