"It really is you."
Zuo Xiaoyuan was so happy she almost jumped up, but thinking about her brother being buried in a desolate mountain, she couldn't help but be overcome with sadness, laughing and crying at the same time, looking very pitiful.
"Go to bed, you still need to get up early tomorrow to train, become strong as soon as possible, and become a formidable female hero. Wield the sword in your hand, cut down all injustices, then those things will never happen again."
Thinking of the Seven-Colored Hall, of the days of struggle with her little friends, and then thinking of that day when Zuo Duanshou and Little Stool met their end, Chen Ping felt a slight heaviness in his heart.
To wield a three-foot sword, to cut down all injustices, is easy to say, but not so easy to do.
Without the resolve to be an enemy of the world, without the power to suppress the world, this path is simply not feasible.
