Qin Wangchuan kept walking, climbing ever upward.
There were indeed things blocking his path along the way, making his body grow heavier and heavier.
But at the same time, something was helping him.
He did not know what it was. He only felt that after each answer, some inexplicable power nourished his body.
It seemed to be the Sword Users of old.
He looked only beneath his feet and pressed onward. He did not know how long he had walked, until all around him fell utterly silent—the voices of "seeking the Dao" that had lingered by his ears had quietly vanished at some point.
And at the end of the sword graveyard stood a figure identical to himself.
The same brows and eyes, the same build—even the folds of the robes were exactly alike.
Qin Wangchuan frowned slightly. Another trial?
But he quickly sensed something unusual.
The spiritual energy flowing around the other's body was not a mirror image. Instead, it was connected to the Giant Sword in the sky and even carried an ancient, unfamiliar rhythm.
"Looks like you've noticed." The "Qin Wangchuan" opposite him suddenly smiled, but his voice carried an ethereal quality, unlike that of a human.
He raised a hand and lightly tapped the void with his fingertip. The immense Heavenly Sword hanging above abruptly hummed. The rust flaked away at an accelerated pace, and the gilded blade burst forth with blinding brilliance.
"I am the Sword Spirit of this sword."
Its voice was ethereal, unlike that of a human, more like the echo of ringing steel.
"I took your form only to make conversation easier."
Before the words had faded, ripples of clear light suddenly spread across its body, and it gradually faded away like flowers reflected in the Shuiyue Mirror.
As the radiance shifted,