Meng Qianyun conversed in a low voice with Snow Ancestor, proposing something. The latter shook his head and then lazily coiled up again, his dark golden eyes half-closed, feigning sleep.
Seeing this, Meng Qianyun did not disturb further but carefully observed Ji Jingqiu behind him, predicting that the youth would arrive at the wooden house by tonight at the latest.
...
That night.
Ji Jingqiu took one step forward, yet for a long time, no new Sword Intent arrived.
He stood in place, stunned for a long time, only to find himself already at the side of the wooden house.
This left him in a trance.
How many days had it been?
Thousands of sparring sessions, break after break, the satisfaction and sense of accomplishment of comprehending Sword Intents, had intoxicated him so much that he almost forgot time itself, wholly immersed in the confrontation with thousands of Sword Intents.
And today, he finally arrived at the end.
Ji Jingqiu carefully assessed his own condition.
