Staring directly at the ancient gods for a whole year

“It seems like it's going to snow.”

As the saying goes, one can tell the weather by looking at the clouds. After a moment, Fu Qian finally retracted his gaze from the cloudless sky, exclaiming to himself in amazement.

Of course, the logic behind this undoubtedly made people's minds explode.

For example, Verron, the old man watching him leave from behind, Fu Qian could feel the heaviness of the other party's mood without even turning around.

But Fu Qian still turned his head.

At this distance, for a demigod, it wouldn't delay them from hearing the exclamation just now.

One could see that Old Man Verron's expression was solemn, but he finally restrained himself and didn't reveal any confusion.

Obviously, after experiencing the vicissitudes of life, he had already summarized a life lesson: when facing the temporary spokesperson of the Apocalypse, silence is golden.

This magnificent and imposing building instantly followed in the footsteps of the Shan Curse Institute.

Sizzle—

Professor Fu's movements didn't even stop. He reached into the interior with his arm, and when he retracted it, he was already pulling down a dark brown curtain that looked luxurious and heavy.

Skillfully draping it over his body and wrapping it around casually, covering up his blood-stained clothes, Fu Qian didn't look back at the chaotic scene behind him and left directly.

And this time, there were undoubtedly more people watching him leave.

In addition to Old Man Verron and the few gazes that noticed him at first, more Linghui Institute elites, attracted by the sound, only managed to catch a glimpse of a tall and straight back.

Not a single person tried to stop him. One could even hear Old Man Verron coldly scolding people to go back.

The Linghui Institute today was obviously very magnanimous.

… …

"Professor Fu, would you like to go in and take a look today?"

Although his attire was strange, it was still not as glaring as the original blood-stained clothes.

Fu Qian wasn't in a hurry to return to the laboratory either, but continued to stroll through the Scholarly Palace on a winter afternoon.

At a leisurely pace, a building even more familiar than the Linghui Institute soon appeared before him.

The Sword Pavilion.

Tiered platforms and flying eaves, standing quietly. It was still far from the annual open day, but the gatekeeper's expression was still serious.

Staring intently at the strangely dressed person walking over, he recognized him before he even got close. The next moment, surprised and respectful, the gatekeeper took the initiative to greet Professor Fu.

He even proactively asked if he wanted to visit the forbidden area. These high-spirited people had a very different attitude from the Linghui Institute.

“Can I go in?”

Since the other party had taken the initiative to say so, Fu Qian asked out of curiosity.

“Of course, Dean Li specifically instructed that the Sword Pavilion will be open to you at any time in the future.”

Professor Fu's tone was so amiable, but the gatekeeper didn't dare to neglect him, answering respectfully.

Oh… look at the scale of the Sword Comprehension Institute.

Li Weixuan had actually granted this outsider such privileges. Such an honor was probably rare in the entire Scholarly Palace.

It was clear that the Apocalypse and the Sword Comprehension Institute were more effective in terms of friendly relations between institutes.

After Cass returns, I can also make a suggestion to open some areas of the Apocalypse on an equal basis—if the teachers and students of the Sword Comprehension Institute don't mind.

“Yes, I was just about to go in. Please open the door.”

Regardless of whether they minded or not, Fu Qian said he didn't mind, nodding and standing in front of the door.

… …

The dark door opened silently, and the familiar scene and murderous aura instantly rushed towards him.

“Professor Fu can freely enter and exit each floor. Please call me at any time if you have any questions.”

The gatekeeper upheld the demeanor of a sword cultivator. After leading Fu Qian into the door, he didn't waste any words. After specifically stating that there were no restrictions on movement, he quietly retreated.

“Okay, thank you.”

With such hospitality, how could Fu Qian disgrace the Apocalypse's style? He thanked him gently before walking towards the depths of the Sword Pavilion, and after a moment, stood in front of a black longsword.

The familiar rugged appearance, but it no longer had that alternative flavor. It was obvious that it had been replaced with the genuine article, no longer the mushroom sword from before.

That's right, it was the one that Professor Robb had secretly tampered with.

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Although the replica was lifelike, and even had a unique evilness due to the special materials used, it still lacked a bit of charm compared to this original.

But the one he was looking for was still not it.

Fu Qian continued forward, stepped onto the stairs, and came to the second floor… As expected, it was dazzling and full of heroic spirit.

Perhaps the rank wasn't very high, but it was truly a manifestation of the rich accumulation of the "cultivation" path.

Fu Qian's wording was quite strict, because as mentioned earlier, there weren't only swords here.

As he admired it all the way, Fu Qian couldn't help but recall his glorious years when he was surrounded by sword intent and was proficient in all techniques.

Thinking about it today, it's unbearable to look back on.

Click!

The next moment, he directly reached out and took a straight sword of medium length from the base, holding it in his hand and carefully examining it.

After confirming that the vermilion hilt matched the color of his new coat, Fu Qian handed it to the other hand with satisfaction and continued to the upper floor—and took another sword along the way.

This time, the principle of selection was not because of the color of the hilt, but because even though it was already a collection, the blade was still as bright as autumn water, and could clearly reflect his own image, to be used as a mirror.

Bang!

Throwing the box he had been carrying all the way to the ground, Fu Qian took out the Ji Clan's Incense Axe, casually threw it into his mouth and bit it between his teeth, and crossed the remaining two swords into a cross, striking a pose.

Even maintaining this highly embarrassing scene, he came to the top floor of the Sword Pavilion.

… …

“When young, one doesn't know the taste of sorrow… falling in love with the Cen Tower…”

The Three-Sword Style was not so easy, but Fu Qian still maintained an astonishing momentum, making unclear sounds.

It was still empty, obviously no mentors from the Sword Comprehension Institute were working hard here today.

But it didn't matter, there was an Apocalypse mentor here.

With an arrogant expression, Fu Qian finally changed his posture, pointing the two swords diagonally to both sides, stretching out his arms, regarding the many ancient sword dao skeletons as nothing, as if about to unleash a whirlwind slash—

In the chaotic sound of breaking, layers of sword-blade storms truly erupted in this sanctuary of the Sword Comprehension Institute.

Not only were many precious collections instantly swept in, but even as it swept across, it devoured everything, directly tearing this ancient building apart from the inside.

There seemed to be screams, but they didn't stop Fu Qian's hand holding the sword—until the next moment the latter became non-existent.

Just as the edge of the blade touched a tumbling short sword in the chaos, without even making a sound, the weapon in Fu Qian's hand had already directly dissipated into sand, and conducted upwards all the way, swallowing fingers, palms, arms…

The flesh and blood strength of a second-order extraordinary being was not reflected at all.

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