It was as if he had arrived in the mountain forests of the Central Plains, sitting on the highest peak of the true orthodoxy, watching the sea of clouds swirl around him.
It was as if he had come to the Northern Border, as if he witnessed the clash of swords, the reunion of iron cavalry, on the left side were women from Jiangnan softly humming and singing, on the right side were the fast horses of the Northern Border galloping to the ends of the earth, the heroic ambitions of men, the gentleness of women, the strife of swords, and all the emotions of the world surging like rivers.
It was as if he saw this world.
He was suddenly lost in a trance.
At last, the zither sound ended, and Li Guanyi took a long time to come back to his senses.
Not until something poked his cheek did he snap out of it.
Raising his head, Murong Qiushui crouched before him with a smile, extending her finger, she pointed at Li Guanyi's Spirit Platform on his forehead, whispering,