Sword Qi crisscrossed the air. In that instant, Jian Shiyi's entire demeanor shifted. He became like an aloof lone wolf, bringing with him a sky full of Sword Qi as he charged toward Zhou Fan with arrogant pride.
ZZZT!
As Jian Shiyi charged forward, the air in his wake crackled as if torn apart by an electric current of Sword Qi. Under the immense pressure, the remaining disciples from the other three sects all fell back, unwilling to be caught in the crossfire of such fierce and overbearing Sword Qi.
Sensing Jian Shiyi's terrifying Sword Qi and deadly technique—a sword presence that seemed capable of shattering the very heavens—Zhou Fan let the smile fall from his lips. His gaze flickered into the distance, seemingly without purpose, before he uttered a single, sharp word. "Mirror!"
The ancient mirror appeared once more. Within its shimmering surface, a figure clad in a gray robe materialized. It was a gray-robed Zhou Fan.
"Flower!"
