All the memories, emotions, attachments, and desires of Ye Lin's life were being stripped away layer by layer.
He forgot the places he had been, forgot the people he had fought, and even began to forget the name Ye Lin.
At that moment, Ye Lin was afraid.
He felt as though something was forcibly erasing his memories, erasing his very existence.
And within his body, something even more terrifying seemed to be reviving.
As he was being stripped away, another existence—far vaster, far more ancient—was awakening.
It was like a colossal beast sunk at the deepest bottom of his consciousness, buried beneath the silt of countless millennia, now finally being dug out bit by bit by this Sword Intent.
When it awakened, the entire sea of swords boiled over.
All the Sword Intent rushing toward Ye Lin suddenly froze in midair, then turned around and converged upon the same spot.
They poured madly into Ye Lin's brow.
Hundreds of millions of strands of Sword Intent pierced into that single point at once, merging into a blinding white light.
Within the white light, a tiny yet incomparably distinct sword seal emerged.
The sword seal was only the size of a fingernail, yet its form was profoundly mysterious.
It seemed to possess the traits of every sword at once.
It held the unyielding righteousness of a straight sword, and the supple curve of a curved sword.
It held the sharpness of a short sword, and the enduring reach of a long sword.
It held the weighty depth of a heavy sword, and the elusive drift of a flexible sword.
Any cultivator who saw it would feel that this was the sword.
The moment the sword seal appeared, Ye Lin's consciousness began to reassemble.
Those memories that had been stripped away had not