A sword, just one sword.
Beginning with the tip of the sword, a snow-white halo shrouded heaven and earth.
Within this changing halo, everything seemed to freeze in place.
The howling wind, the drifting catkins, the raindrops under the eaves, and this world that Xu Yuan held sway over, including himself.
Under this sword light, all fell still, just like a painting.
"One sword... Nineteen States of Cold Light."
It was not until this moment that Shi Ruoyu murmured softly.
The next second, Xu Yuan watched, wide-eyed, as the snow-white sword pointed at him and slowly stabbed toward him.
This sword, must hit!
This sword, also cannot possibly be blocked!
This sword, if hit, means certain death!
For some reason, such a thought surfaced in his mind.
The tip of the sword magnified continuously in his pupils, his limbs icy cold.
"Move! Move already!"
Xu Yuan was extremely anxious.