A cold autumn alone, the Xiang River flows northward, to Orange Isle's head.0

The magical sight of Lu Xufeng’s fingertip carving words into the air was astonishing. Each stroke left visible impressions that lingered in the sky. He was inscribing lines from the poem of a great figure who had lived more than 500 years ago.0

As the verse took shape, a phenomenon arose. An invisible force field spread out, enveloping the space. The approaching storm of blade light slowed as if caught in a mire, their advance grinding to a halt twenty meters away, unable to move further.0

Tsukiha Tensō sneered and raised his right arm. A colossal qi blade, nearly a hundred meters long, coalesced before him. As his arm lifted, the blade rose high into the air, gathering the essence of countless smaller blade auras. It resembled a deity wielding an immense weapon.0

The mountains aflame with crimson, the forests dyed with vibrant hues… In frost-touched heavens, myriad beings vie for freedom. Facing the vast expanse, who controls the fate of this boundless land?0

Lu Xufeng continued to write. His strokes became faster, more fluid, and the characters more vivid and lifelike with every movement.0

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