A round moon was hanging in the sky. The moonlight that fell covered Qing Xuan like a thin veil.
There was a cliff in front of Shen Lian. He sat facing it, and he tried to understand the page of mysterious tadpole writing. Each and every symbol swam through Shen Lin's heart and the tadpoles seemed to come alive in his heart. They were being reorganized.
The tadpoles kept swimming and a mysterious vital force began to spread within his heart.
Shen Lian's spirit was utilized to its max, and every little tadpole felt as if its outer layer was being removed and its inner self was being revealed.
At the time, the river reflected a clear view of the sky, and Shen Lian stood up all in a sudden. He pointed his finger at the cliff in front of him.
The cliff had been moisturized under Qing Xuan's soulful aura for ten thousand years and hence not even normal sword could cause a scratch on it.