Chu Huai Xu had never expected that, on this journey of borrowing swords, he would so quickly end up borrowing from the Current Sword Venerable.
What intrigued him even more was what kind of situation had brought the Sword Venerable here—and why this young Daoist intended to borrow his sword.
Surely it wasn't just for fun, or merely to practice?
Chu Huai Xu had noticed that the Dao Ancestor apparently never borrowed a sword from the same person twice.
"Sword Venerable, this little Daoist would like to borrow your sword!" the young Daoist called out loudly.
In Chu Huai Xu's recent experience, the Dao Ancestor had always seemed like a very gentle person.
This was the first time he had heard him speak in such a tone. There even seemed to be a hint of boldness in his voice.
That made him increasingly aware that something extraordinary might happen next.
At that moment, the young Daoist stood atop the mountain peak, looking down at the low hill below.
He merely beckoned, and a long sword shot into the sky!
The blade was covered in a black checkered pattern.
The hilt was dark blue.
It rose toward the heights, letting out a clear, ringing sword cry.
For some reason, Chu Huai Xu felt that he could understand the emotions contained in that sword cry.
--Anger!
The utmost anger!
He couldn't help raising a hand to rub his forehead. This fellow who refined himself into a sword was becoming more and more convinced that he was "terminally ill."
"I'm almost able to understand sword speech now."
But why was the sword angry?
Whenever the Dao Ancestor borrowed a sword, it was actually different from the way Chu Huai Xu usually borrowed one.
The swords did not fawn over him as eagerly as