These people were filled with passion for the blade, but they were also lost in the Dao.
Logically speaking, anyone who could cultivate to the Daluo Golden Immortal realm could not possibly be simple.
As an outsider who knew next to nothing about blades, he had no right to point fingers or pass judgment on them.
But these people had indeed taken the wrong path.
They were obsessed with the Dao of the Blade, yet they alone lacked an understanding of the Dao. They had lost themselves within it.
The immense Blade Intent of the Holy Blade Remains was like background noise, blanketing everything and instead robbing many of the ability to listen to the blade's cry within their own hearts.
Ye Lin also tried approaching the true body of the Holy Blade Remains, located at the heart of the city and protected by layer upon layer of formations.
It was a dark-gold blade tip a hundred zhang tall, covered in ancient patterns and buried deep in the earth. It exuded an aura of vastness and weight, yet was incomparably silent.
Its soul seemed to have truly fallen asleep—or perhaps dispersed entirely—leaving behind only this hollow yet powerful shell.
Ye Lin did not leave. He simply remained there, silently observing.
After observing for several months, Ye Lin rented an old stone house with a small courtyard in a relatively secluded corner of western Holy Blade City.
From the moment he rented the little house, Ye Lin shut himself inside and never went out.
He was not cultivating. He was recalling and distilling.
He recalled every detail of his clashes with Sword Demon's Sword Intent, and he thought of Sword Demon's powerful, razor-sharp Sword Intent from back then.
He also recalled the chaos of the countless fragmented intents within Sword Field