The mountain wall slowly opened with a roar.
Xie Xuanyi stepped into the Grotto Heaven, countless Sword Qi transformed into fireflies, flying around, surrounding Xie Xuanyi's black clothes.
Above the withered mountain.
A ray of spiritual light shone down.
Zhao Chunyang sat cross-legged at the end of the Grotto Heaven, illuminated by the faint light, gentle breezes turning over, making him appear as a Saint.
In a sense.
He could indeed be considered a "Saint of this world."
In fact, after cultivating to the ultimate peak of the Yang God, time could no longer leave a mark on cultivators of this level.
If Zhao Chunyang wished, he could restore his youthful appearance and demeanor.
It's just that...
Zhao Chunyang did not do so.
For so many years, through storms and stress, he alone protected the Da Sui Sword Palace, unmoved and unwavering.
Allowing the wind and frost to brush across his cheeks, without altering a thing with Divine Skills.
