Sword Mound

In the secret realm suffused with sword qi, crowds thronged before the Sword Intent Passage.

Spurred on by Hua Xiaoyao and his sister, several cultivators also rushed inside to seek their chance encounter.

Even such tiny little brats could gain something from within. They refused to believe that after cultivating for so many years, they were somehow inferior to two children barely three or four years old.

Yet after a long while, there was still no movement inside.

In the end, they staggered out of the passage with red-rimmed eyes, the Storage Bags at their waists utterly empty.

One of them unwillingly pounded the stone wall. "I clearly sensed the swords crying out. Why can't I resonate with them?"

The onlookers whispered among themselves, their discussions mingled with sighs. Yet even more people still harbored a fluke of hope, lining up in a long queue to try their luck.

Hua Qiang stood outside the crowd with his hands behind his back, the hem of his black robes snapping loudly in the fierce wind.

His gaze swept over the flashing runes at the passage entrance, when he suddenly caught sight of a tattered Apricot Yellow Banner fluttering in the northwest corner. The faded words "Sword Mound" on the banner rolled in the wind.

Following the banner, he saw glints of cold light on an earthen hill three miles away. Hundreds of ancient swords lay slanted in crimson gravel, and the red silk wrapped around their hilts had long since crumbled into scraps, as though still testifying to their past glory.

"Master, that is the Sword Mound, a place that produces peerless treasured swords.

Sword qi crisscrosses the skies above the Sword Mound, as if remnants of ancient sword intent still linger there."

"I heard that whenever it opens once every hundred