The Ink Pool Sword in An Le's hand had been taken from Sixth Mountain and personally gifted by the Sixth Mountain Lord. Though its rank was not high, no one dared underestimate it.
As for the tattered bamboo sword hanging at the youth's waist, it drew far less attention. What threat could a rotten old bamboo sword possibly pose?
Perhaps it was merely a toy carved for him by an elder of his family when he was young, bearing extraordinary sentimental meaning, and thus worn close to him—a symbol of his childhood dream of roaming the world with a sword at his side.
Naturally, Zhushan did not know the bamboo sword's origins. Even Qin Qianqiu and Wang Qinhe in the carriage in the distance had no impression whatsoever of this Bamboo Breaking Sword.
They simply could not connect the tattered bamboo sword at the youth's waist with the sword wielded for several hundred years by that legendary figure of the Great Zhao Dynasty.
Therefore, when Zhushan released the majestic Qi and blood forged into a pill, all his attention was fixed on the Ink Pool Sword in An Le's hand, observing and predicting the techniques An Le would use in the next instant.
Yet Zhushan, who had kept his focus locked on Ink Pool, suddenly discovered that Ink Pool had vanished. Like a mass of thick ink, it blended into the pitch-black night and disappeared without a trace, vanishing before his eyes and from beneath his mental perception!
A sense of danger that made every hair on his body stand on end instantly surged into his heart!
Where was the sword?!
A gust of wind blew past, and sharpness sprang forth from nothingness!
Starlight poured down from ten thousand feet above, splashing across Zhushan's vision. Along with the stars, a