The Rebirth of the Sword Emperor: Starting from Defending the Shen Family

Returning to the bottom of the ruins, Shen Zhao alone resisted the tide of the ruins for seven days and seven nights. When he was exhausted, his sworn brother's sword came out from behind his heart. "Second brother, you are good at everything. You are just too good." The last glass of wine he drank was warmed by the Taoist monk himself. Sanshen Dew, the handiwork of the Holy Lord of Yaochi. With his two dearest faces, he fell into the dark abyss. When I opened my eyes again, the cicadas were chirping, and the medicine was fragrant and bitter. The twelve-year-old sister was holding a cracked pottery bowl and was standing on tiptoes to get angry at him for not getting up to take medicine. The father was still lying on the bed, the Shen family had not yet been destroyed, and the slaves of the Zhou family had just kicked down the first door. This year he was seventeen years old and at the sixth level of body tempering. There are still seventy days before the whole family of forty-three people will be stained with blood in Qingshuang City. The man who had harmed his whole family was counting his coins in the mud. The people who have rebelled against him for three hundred years are still carrying water and chopping firewood for people in Zhongzhou. Shen Zhao touched his chest. No wounds. The three-hundred-year-old sword is still there. Mine is not for sale. The home is not broken. My sister will not die in his arms in this life. As for Gu Changgeng and Su Wanqing—— You cultivate slowly. I am seventeen years old, waiting for you.