"The last sword can still achieve all the sword cultivators under heaven," she shook her head wistfully, "How dull it is for the Sword Dao to lose such a brilliant talent."
Lu Qingshan remained silent, feeling a surge of emotion resonating in his chest.
"In the Sword Dao we cultivate and the Jianghu we dwell in, there's no reason for it to regress. The waves must rise higher, each crest surpassing the last." Finally, he clasped his fists toward the direction of Chang'an City and spoke softly.
At this moment, the emotions in his chest swirled vigorously, transforming into a sudden surge of heroism.
A whispered promise echoed in Lu Qingshan's heart.
Li Qiubai, I will not let you be too lonely.
......
Chang'an City.
Everything has come to an end.
The once unchallengeable Qing King Xia Qing lay on the ground, his flesh and blood shriveled, dried-up into a mummy.
