Zong Shen slowly wrapped his hand around the haft of the battle axe.
The first sensation that came to him upon touching it was heaviness, as though he were gripping a piece of solidified history.
The instant his fingers tightened, the dark red gemstone embedded where the axe blade joined the haft suddenly lit up, pulsing once like an awakened heart.
What followed was a surging flood of consciousness.
It formed a connection with Zong Shen through the axe haft.
They were not words, but fragments of consciousness composed of images, emotions, and memories.
The scenes that appeared here were more detailed than those extended from the murals.
Zong Shen saw an exceptionally burly orc chieftain clad in ancient beast hides and bone ornaments, standing at the highest point of an altar and unleashing a deafening battle cry at the sky.
Twelve high priests clad in magnificent ritual robes and holding bone tablets surrounded him, chanting bleak and ancient prayers.
Below the altar stood tens of thousands of Orc Warriors shouting in Frenzy, their weapons striking their shields with a roar like mountains collapsing and seas surging.
The sky twisted as an enormous vortex formed amid the clouds.
At the heart of the vortex, golden light collided with purple-black bolts of lightning.
The chieftain raised the Soul Ripper battle axe high with both hands, every muscle in his body taut and veins bulging.
Then, he poured all of his strength and will into it.
The battle axe erupted with dazzling golden light and shot straight toward the center of the vortex.
However, the next scene suddenly became chaotic.
What appeared at the vortex's center was not a passage for the Ancestor's Soul to descend through. Instead, it was torn apart by an evil force from an unknown dimension.
A purple-black