Hua Qiang led his disciples through several more scattered waves of monsters before arriving at a desolate valley filled with sword tombs.
He stood at the mouth of the valley with his hands behind his back, his black Daoist robe snapping loudly in the crosswinds that swept through the gorge.
Hua Qiang's gaze swept over the endless sword tombs before him. Bluish-gray stone graves lay scattered in orderly rows, stretching from near to far into the depths of the valley like a silent stone dragon coiled in the wilderness.
A treasured sword of varying design was planted atop every sword tomb. Some blades glimmered with an eerie blue chill, while some hilts were inlaid with rare treasures.
Some were plain and ancient yet exuded an awe-inspiring righteous aura; others were bizarrely shaped, as though they concealed endless sharpness.
The exhaustion from slaughtering scattered monsters along the way vanished in an instant beneath the impact of this sky full of sword shadows.
"Holy Son! It's a Sword Tomb! There are so many treasured swords!"
A young female disciple with twin buns was the first to cry out. Her voice brimmed with uncontrollable excitement, and her fair cheeks had flushed red with exhilaration.
Her senior sister hurriedly grabbed her, though her own gaze burned just as fiercely as she stared fixedly at the radiant longsword atop a nearby sword tomb, her fingertips trembling faintly.
"Ancient Divine Weapons! It is said that the Sword Tomb contains spirits, and only those fated for them can pull them out. If we can gain a Divine Weapon's acknowledgment, our cultivation will surely advance a thousand miles in a single day!"
Another disciple dressed in a light green gown clenched her fists, her tone full of yearning. She was about to rush forward when her companion hastily