On Heroic Sword Peak, old comrades drank freely.
The wine was buried back when the Spirit Realm had not yet fallen and the Dao Sect was still flourishing, and it had been personally sealed by Qiao Rumu, then Peak Master of Heroic Sword Peak.
The people were all those who had once walked out of the Spirit Realm together, meeting when they were nobodies, gathering now atop the peak.
So there were too many things to say, too many feelings to pour out, too many old days to remember.
"Old Turtle, do you still remember those days in the Dao Sect? Back then you really were a damned survivor, obviously strong as hell, yet insisting on keeping a low profile. Those elders and peak masters all misjudged you—turns out you were the strongest among us…"
"I vaguely remember—back then you and I roamed the Dao Sect unhindered, and now, all our old friends have become grave mounds…"
