At this moment, the long sword in Zhang Yu's hand was undergoing some wondrous transformation. Yet he knew clearly that this wonder had merely come from the transmitted intent of the place where High Sublime resided.
Like himself, the Cicada Cry Sword was only temporarily bearing this power; it did not truly possess it. Once that power departed, it would return to its original state.
But he did not need this power to remain. He merely used it to elevate the divine intent within the sword. Having touched the power of the Upper Layer and never having touched it were two entirely different matters. Having received this infusion, the sword was like a blade reforged in the furnace—except this furnace fire came from a higher realm.
At this moment, he slowly guided it with his intent. Breath flowed back and forth within the sword, like inhalation and exhalation, like the opening and closing of the apertures of life and death, allowing the sword to digest and absorb this power as fully as possible.
Although the Cicada Cry Sword could be considered one with him, the sword itself did not necessarily understand the principles that he understood. A sword was an instrument, after all. It still required him to wield it, and it still required him to guide the direction in which it advanced.
There were in truth many paths for a sword to rise along, hence the saying of thirty-six ways for Spirit Birth on the Sword. His Spirit Birth on the Sword was "Sever All Absolutes," so under his deliberate urging, it would only proceed along this single path and would not stray toward any other.
After the qi and intent had been poured into it for what seemed like some time, a marvelous sensation suddenly welled up from