Patriarchs, Please Stop Arguing.

The sword from outside the sky fell towards Qingya City. The various sects in Dongling planned to sacrifice the four squares in the south of the city and use two thousand lives to fulfill the destiny of a genius. Chen Xian, the elder brother of Taixu Sect, walked into the old formation, but six voices sounded in his ears at the same time. "Open the formation and send the sword back to the sky." "What nonsense? Just kill him with one sword." "His meridians are not open, who do you want to kill him?" "Save people first." "Change the formation first." "Shut up, everyone, and tell him to stand up straight." One night, the six patriarchs who had been sleeping for three thousand years all woke up. They each stand at the end of a road, and they all firmly believe that their answer is the right one. But Chen Xian didn't copy anyone. He made the heavenly sword that was supposed to choose one person as the master turn into a rain of swords that fell across the city. From then on, the ancient sword recognized him, the old formation was reopened for him, and the dojos that had been lost for three thousand years appeared one after another. Everyone in the world thought that the Taixu Sect had produced a monster that had been inherited from an ancient ancestor. Only Chen Xian knew that his troubles had just begun. When others cultivate immortality, one master is the only way. He has six ancestors and six answers, and they fight over the tablets every day. Fortunately, Chen Xian was never prepared to choose one. He can borrow any of the six roads. But the next step is to go on his own. But as Chen Xian walked further and further, those old swords, old doors, and old friends who had been sleeping for three thousand years began to wake up again because of him. It seems that what they are waiting for is never a successor. "Grandmasters, please stop arguing." "This time, listen to me."