Everything disappeared.
The forces that constitute the world, like time and space, causality, destiny, and reincarnation, were all shattered.
The hundred-zhang Dharma form displayed by the Book Ancestor was annihilated in a roar of anger.
Even the ancient sages' phantoms summoned through the 'Literary Theory Book' vanished into thin air.
Looking up at the sky at this moment, one would find the sky over the Imperial Capital, stretching for millions of miles, split in two, with nothing but the towering literary blade, like a knife of culture.
"Go!"
Gui Guzi's lips curled into a slight smile, his long black hair dancing in the wind, his eyes divine, seeing through fate.
An overwhelming power descended from above, sweeping the four poles.
The literary blade quivered lightly.
Then, it transformed into eighteen blades of light, slashing towards eighteen directions.
"Not good!"
