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Back then, when he faced a Taiyi Golden Immortal, Wang Sheng had to exhaust every trick he had. Only by borrowing the power through the Divine-Possession Art could he hope to kill one head-on.
But today was different.
Outside Fengdu City, Wang Sheng stood quietly amid the drifting dust, one hand resting on the silver-white Lianqiao longsword.
At his feet lay six severed remains belonging to three enemies. One of them had reverted to its true form, a flood dragon dozens of zhang long. The other two were human cultivators.
Wang Sheng sheathed his longsword. He could feel countless gazes gathering around him. His heart stirred slightly as he raised his voice and declared. "Spread the word: anyone who tries to assassinate me, Xu Xian, will never escape the sword in my hand."
After laughing coldly, he turned and walked back toward Fengdu City while reciting a poem aloud.
"One kill in ten steps—don't ask for my name. Ten thousand years to forge this blade, to slaughter gods and the myriad just the same."
This hint should be obvious enough, right?
Back then, he had clearly told Xu Zhongliang and the others about the Myriad-Slaying Sword Intent. There was no way they would miss such a direct clue.
He could not afford to shout that he knew the...
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