Ten thousand swords pierced the sky. The Old Blind Man's figure seemed ethereal, almost transparent, as a beam of sword light shot straight into the heavens, breaking apart the sky-covering demon energy, as if tearing through the firmament.
Li Fan looked up at the dazzling scene before him. He felt no joy—what he felt was worry for the Old Blind Man's health.
*His primordial energy was already damaged, yet he unleashed such terrifying sword power. Could that frail, aging body withstand it?*
*Just as the Old Blind Man said, Heaven had lent him a hundred years, but even a Sword Immortal must bend to its will. He lamented the cruelty of time—possessing unparalleled talent, yet shackled by aging.*
"I will carry on your aspirations," Li Fan murmured to himself, silently resolving in his heart.
The Elder Mentor and the Old Blind Man both had regrets.
Two generations had now placed their hopes upon him.
Li Mountain had also placed its hope upon him.
