At this moment, outside the library, the flow of time seemed to slow by a beat.
Time passed extremely slowly.
On a certain floor of the library, several window doors were gently pushed open one after another.
Outside the building, the steps of scholars and students, along with the people from Shuaixing Hall, all stopped, their expressions frozen at the previous moment.
In Zhao Rong's eyes reflected that sword, straight and unyielding, rebellious and wild.
Suddenly, he thought of someone who was still lazing about in bed.
Zhao Rong had just experienced that dream of a past life when the two had barely gotten to know each other.
Gui had arrogantly declared.
Its past sword would kill anyone in its way, divine beings or mortals alike, and if even the heavens dared to obstruct it, it would shatter the skies of the Nine Heavens.
Gui would also often boastfully tell him.
