From the moment Xiang Yang set foot on Sword God Mountain, it was like a stone dropped into the heart of a lake, sending ripples spreading outward. Sword qi streaked through the mountain with howling cries, like sharks in the sea circling Xiang Yang as though he were prey, restless and eager to strike. Yet in the end, they did not attack.
Xiang Yang relaxed the fingers he had initially curled, a faint smile appearing at the corner of his lips. Sure enough, nothing on Sword God Mountain could escape the Sword God's perception. Those threadlike strands of sword qi carried only pressure, no hostility, which precisely meant that the Sword God had permitted him to climb the mountain and meet him.
With no more misgivings in his heart, Xiang Yang unleashed his movement art, transforming into a white whirlwind as he swept toward Sword God Mountain's highest summit—Divine Sword Peak. There, an all-encompassing sword intent coiled between heaven and earth. It was also where the Sword God of a generation sat in quiet meditation and cultivation each day.
The sights upon this mountain differed greatly from ordinary scenery. Most of the rocks had taken the shape of swords: slender swords, longswords, broadswords, heavy swords, sawtooth swords, crescent swords—countless shapes beyond measure, scattered about at random. Some stood close together, while others lay far apart.
This was all the result of prolonged exposure to sword qi. As for vegetation, it was exceedingly rare upon the mountain. Or rather, as far as the eye could see, there was nothing but desolation. The sword qi was simply too abundant; beneath such killing intent, all living things had been extinguished.
In no more than the time it took to drink a cup of tea, Xiang Yang had climbed all the way up and