The Xuan Yuan Sword was broken into two smooth sections, and every person who beheld it revealed a profound sadness in their eyes. Qi Yue's body was gone; it was not beside the Xuan Yuan Sword. Everyone knew that if he were still around, he would never abandon his greatest companion, even if the Xuan Yuan Sword was broken.
Silence, the vastness of space had once again become silent, everyone's gaze focused on that broken Xuan Yuan Sword. Minds were nearly blank; even the Pope, who had once hoped for Qi Yue's death, couldn't help but feel a deep sorrow now. For some reason, he only felt respect for Qi Yue, a respect that would never change.
