Fortunately, Yu Qingcheng set aside her pride; otherwise, the Moon Embracing Pavilion would have lost many of its martial artists.
A sense of bitterness touched the corners of Yu Qingcheng's mouth upon hearing those words.
A picture appeared in her mind—a young man standing proudly, longsword in hand.
Genius martial artists gathered around, yet no one dared to battle him.
One man, one sword, intimidating the genius disciples around him.
In that moment, Yu Qingcheng could only look up in admiration.
A strange fluctuation stirred in her heart; ever since she began her cultivation, she had been regarded as a genius enveloped by countless dazzling glimmers.
Soon, she had surpassed many fellow disciples, admired by thousands, and within her rank, there were few who could stand shoulder to shoulder with her.
The talents from other forces could only match her at best, but defeating her was challenging, so she had never admired any of her peers.
