Feng Jiutian learned swordplay at the age of seven. From the age of twelve, he practiced swordsmanship ten thousand times a day for six years.
But in the eyes of everyone in Qingshi City, the stupid skills of the poor can never be compared to spiritual roots, elixirs and family backgrounds.
Until he fell into the cliff for a life-saving blood ginseng and awakened the Nine Heavens Sword Monument.
The sword tablet did not imbue him with cultivation, nor gave him a divine sword. It only showed the half-inch miss every time he drew his sword in the past eleven years.
Swift wind, thunder, blazing sun, cold moon... The nine sword marks must be completed by his own hands.
From Qingshi City to the Qingyun Sword Sect, from the Four Sects Hanyuan to the Zhongzhou Feng Clan, he wants to take back everything that was taken away by the bloodline rules, and he also wants to rescue his father who has been missing for ten years.
A man can be poor, but a sword cannot be broken.
On this day, he still used ten thousand swords.
