Amidst the falling sword flowers, Jiang Wang finally faced Ning Shuangrong.
Even completely immersed in the world of swordsmanship, he had to admit that the smile before him was truly beautiful.
The smile overflowed in her eyes, flowing subtly at the corners of her lips and brows.
She was genuinely joyful, for an old friend she had never met, for a soulmate in the world of swordsmanship.
Of course, in this smile, you would feel its brilliance, and naturally be moved by this innate stroke of genius with the sword.
The mountain wind trembled among Ning Shuangrong's tresses, and at this moment, her fluttering black hair, the graceful hem of her garment, every detail seemed to be articulating the mysteries of the Sword Dao.
In this mysterious world of swordsmanship, the Autumn Water Sword stood out among countless possibilities, pointing west.
This stroke, alone ascending the western tower!
The dangerous and strange peaks in the world are not as unfathomable as the human heart.
