As his words fell, who knew how much time passed before the darkness finally receded.
Ye Lin abruptly opened his eyes and found that he was still sitting cross-legged atop the gleaming white stone platform at the center of the Teaching Hall.
The black little sword at his waist had somehow risen to hover in the air before him. A faint dark-red glow flowed across its blade, slowly fading away, like the last footprint in snow being covered by fresh snowfall.
He sat on the stone platform without moving for a long time.
At some point, the 10,800 sword veins within his body had been stirred into motion. The sword essence flowing through them now carried an additional wisp of dark-red aura.
It was so thin it was almost impossible to sense, yet like a drop of ink cast into clear water, it was quietly seeping in, spreading out, and changing the underlying hue of his Sword Dao.
Ye Lin looked around. It was still the familiar Teaching Hall, as though nothing had happened at all.
But Ye Lin knew that everything that should have happened had already happened.
Just now, he had indeed listened to a discourse on the Great Dao.
That old man's Dao was indeed quite good.
But after turning it over and over in his mind, Ye Lin still felt that the old man's Dao did not suit him.
It did not suit him in the slightest.
It differed greatly from his own Dao.
What he cultivated now was pure Sword Dao—an incomparably pure Sword Dao, a Sword Dao that pointed directly to the source, untainted by any impurity.
His ambition was immense.
For the sake of this Sword Dao, he had not hesitated to cast aside his Dao of Destruction.
In Ye Lin's eyes, the