A month's time flew by.
Chen Qing received a message from Mei Zuochen yesterday. Today at noon, after finishing his cultivation, he waited by the door.
As he approached the city gate, Chen Qing saw a particularly unruly Foundation Establishment sword cultivator in the tavern ahead, singing while plucking his sword.
He raised a wine jug high, the wine cascading into his mouth like a waterfall.
"I have idly practiced swordsmanship for sixty years, drinking without slaughtering demons or monsters."
"Today, I'll sharpen my blade for you, ready to ask who stands as number one."
His long hair flowed unrestrained, exuding the manner of a sword hero.
When Chen Qing arrived at this spot, upon hearing these words, he clearly understood their meaning.
The doggerel made it clear; this sword did not seek demonic slaughter but came to this city to ask who's the top.
