Before the stone wall lay many meditation cushions, occupied by swordsmen contemplating its mysteries.
Some carried swords on their backs; others had thrust theirs point-first into the ground beside them. Their swords came in all manner of shapes-broad, slender, curved, and more. Some had no scabbards and were wrapped in cloth across their backs, while others had scabbards studded with gleaming jewels, lavish beyond compare.
A sword reflected its owner. Li Hao swept his gaze over them before turning to the stone wall, and his eyes instantly sharpened.
The wall was smooth as jade, and within it lay a sword shadow shaped like a crescent moon.
The sword shadow slanted like a shaft of moonlight, frozen within the stone wall by some power.
Li Hao could tell at a glance that someone had swung a sword, leaving this shadow at the instant its light swept out.
In his mind, he seemed to see the swordsman's stance and the easy smile on their face.
Yet the moment he touched upon that swordsman's essence, his heart abruptly quivered. It was as though he were about to touch something terribly dangerous, and warning after warning rose within him.
Li Hao's heart tightened. He quickly withdrew his thoughts and focused solely on the sword shadow.
His Sword Art had already reached Entering the Dao, placing him at the pinnacle among the swordsmen of all the heavens. Even the Sword Saint had only reached that level in Sword Art and had yet to transcend it.
As he studied the sword shadow, he soon discerned a few clues.
It held an indescribably profound aura, seemingly something beyond the Dao alone. Perfectly natural, it seemed to have existed within the stone wall from birth, nurtured by heaven and earth rather than wrought by human hands.
This Sword