National Preceptor's Residence.
Before the bamboo cottage.
Jiang Ning held a longsword, its blade trembling faintly in his hand.
He could sense that the sword in his grasp seemed to possess life.
Su Qingying's bonded sword! he murmured inwardly.
The next moment, he gripped the hilt and raised his arm. Sword light suddenly poured forth like cascading moonlight.
He sent forward an utterly ordinary "thrust."
Yet where the blade passed, the air did not stir, while the light abruptly flickered between brightness and darkness.
Within several yards around him, it was as though he had suddenly fallen into a frigid night. Yet three inches before the sword tip, a blazing point of white light lit up, like sunlight bursting forth without warning.
Light and darkness alternated in silence. There was not even the slightest sound of the sword cutting the wind at its tip.
This strike seemed to have attained the perfect balance between speed and force. The circulation of yin and yang qi left faint, almost imperceptible traces along the blade.
Su Qingying watched the scene, and her eyes brightened slightly.
With her discernment, she naturally saw that this strike was no longer merely swordsmanship.
It was command over yin and yang, over space—a kind of interpretation of the Sword Dao.
Is his Primordial Spirit about to form? she muttered inwardly.
Buzz—
At that moment, the blade quivered lightly and gave off a subtle resonance.
Jiang Ning sheathed his sword and stood still, lowering his head to examine the blade.
The moment it had entered his hand, he had felt its peerless sharpness and indestructible hardness.
Now, after delivering that strike, he felt his thoughts communicating with the sword. With this sword in hand, he was naturally aligned with the Sword Dao.
"A fine sword." He held the sword