Jiang Ding gazed at the many Sword Dao geniuses in the endless starry sky.
Among them, many applied dream communication techniques delayed for thousands of years, speaking with him from then, yet the moment he learned of it now.
Among these fellow Daoists,
many had killing intent in their eyes, some ambition, some longing; it was common, the nature of sword cultivators.
But most of the sword cultivators actually had eyes full of gratitude, admiration.
This gave rise to an inexplicable feeling in his heart.
As someone just devoted to my own path, can I actually receive such gratitude?
"Greetings to all fellow Daoists."
Jiang Ding nodded slightly, with a sigh: "Just tens of thousands of years, and you have all transformed from ignorant children into powerful figures dominating parts of the starry sky. It indeed feels like a dream."
"Time's power of creation is boundless."
"Here, congratulations to all of you, the journey must have been difficult, encountering many hardships."
