Wang Sheng could have been in the mountains, gazing at the stars with his senior and junior sisters while chatting about life and Daoist realms. He could have been sitting cross-legged amid the cool mountain breeze—lost between heaven, earth, and the stars—while romanticizing cultivation.0

Instead, he had one hand turning the wheel of his chair and the other gripping the cracked and battered Abyss Listener. 1

While calculating how much of his sword intent he could still bring forth, he set his eyes on the people locked in combat amid the greenery. He found himself fortunate that he had never practiced sword-controlling techniques. Otherwise, being called "flappy sword," or even worse, "limp sword," would be too humiliating.0

Wang Sheng avoided charging in recklessly. As he wheeled himself closer to the fight, the leader among the trio locked onto him with his spiritual consciousness.0

The golden light around Shi Qianzhang was dimming by the second. Worse, his talismanic arts proved completely ineffective against the ghostly woman, who clung to him like an unshakable curse. She struck him with her daggers repeatedly, each...0