This has grown rather dull.
On the Imperial Palace walls, at the Great Yan Dragon Wall Plaza, the battle had already ended. Zhao Xuanwu took off his bamboo hat, revealing the white-streaked hair beneath. He was only middle-aged, yet his head was full of white.
He gripped his bamboo staff tightly, his eyes fixed on the flickering streaks of light in the sky. This Sword Venerable, who had dominated an entire era, seemed somewhat nervous.
He was afraid that what happened a hundred years ago would happen again.
He did not want to see a former disciple die before his eyes again.
Nearly everyone's gaze followed the two streaks of light across the sky. The outcome of this top-tier duel was absolutely critical, as it would decide the end of this entire incident.
Under the watchful eyes of the crowd, Lu Mingyuan seemed to sense something.
A line of brilliant text appeared before his eyes.
