The rain poured down heavily.
In the area before the white tower, a large amount of golden light had gathered into a massive character, completely enveloping Zhang Rongfang.
Strangely, the golden light was dazzling and imposing, yet it didn't affect any extra space. Even to those nearby, the remaining people and the remaining passage structures seemed like phantoms, with no sense of existence at all.
This sword had reached the supreme level of refinement, imprinting the most basic particles with traces belonging to Long himself. Thus, he could control the entirety of things and time within a certain range.
To achieve this, the mental and soul power consumption was extremely exaggerated.
This was why Long rarely struck—because the cost of this realm was too great, even for him, he could at most unleash one blow.
After one strike, his soul nourished by the body would completely exhaust the last bit of power he'd accumulated.
