At twilight, a faint moon lingered low on the eastern horizon.
Above Xingzi Town, thousands of miles high in the sky,
cloud sea airships, filled with moonlight, passed by the eastern horizon. The cultivators on board, leaning against the railings, looked down to see Xingzi Lake below, dotted with star-like lights that moved slowly, resembling a river of stars in the mortal world, similar to the fireflies in the forest.
Upon closer inspection, it turned out to be the lit flat boats on the lake, and the brightly lit pavilions, gathered together, creating an illusion of stars falling into the lake.
Along the shores of Xingzi Lake, the ten-mile-long street gradually buzzed with activity as cultivators from hundreds of miles around began to converge here.
At this moment, at a corner of this lively waterfront street, Li Bai took over a three-foot-long blade.
He glanced at the sword scabbard which Zhao Rong had already firmly closed, nodded slightly, and embraced it in his arms again.
