That figure lowered his head, looking at the Broken Sword at his feet. His lips moved as though he were saying something, but no one could hear his voice.
Then, he reached out and gripped the hilt.
The instant the Broken Sword was grasped, three sword cries rang out from the cracks in the sky.
The first sword cry was like a single slash splitting heaven and earth apart.
Within a million li of Dao Sword City, every sword cultivator's sword slid three inches from its sheath at the same time. The blades tilted toward Dao Sword City, as though paying homage.
The second sword cry was like a single slash severing time itself.
The space around the Sword Pool began to distort, and one illusory scene after another flashed through the air.
It was an incomparably brutal battle. A man in white held a Long Sword, facing thousands upon thousands of faceless enemies alone.
Every time sword light flared, hundreds and thousands of enemies were reduced to dust.
The scenes shifted rapidly, yet the same term surfaced in the hearts of everyone who saw them.
Supreme of the Sword Dao.
The third sword cry was like a sword questioning the heavens.
The three cracks in the sky shuddered in unison. The scarlet radiance abruptly contracted, transforming into three blood-red bolts of lightning that struck the Broken Sword.
The Broken Sword endured the three heavenly bolts without moving in the slightest. Instead, a line of writing emerged upon its blade.
The characters were ancient and vigorous, not belonging to any known script, yet everyone who saw them instantly understood their meaning.
"Question the heavens with my sword; the heavens dare not answer."
As those six words appeared, the Sword Pool erupted.
Within a million li, every sword cultivator sensed that