Inside the great hall.
Before the dusty offering dais, over a dozen broken swords and scraps of iron huddled together.
Clutched in Jiang Yuechu's palm, the Shadowbearing Sword had abandoned all scruples to save its own skin.
Its blade trembled slightly as it babbled on and on.
As the Shadowbearing Sword identified them, the broken swords it named on the dais let out mournful hums.
Their blades kept shrinking back, as though they wished they could sink straight into the wall.
Jiang Yuechu listened expressionlessly.
Refining this scrap metal would indeed replenish some of her cultivation.
But since these things had gained sentience, keeping them around as guides seemed worthwhile too.
While she was considering this.
A sudden clatter of footsteps came from outside.
Then the heavy greenwood doors were shoved open from the other side.
Daylight poured in, breaking the deathly stillness inside the Sword Pavilion.
Normally, the Hidden Sword Tower was a restricted site of the Jieqing Sect.
When disciples entered to contemplate sword intent, outside interruptions were strictly forbidden.
But today was different.
The spirit swords within the Hidden Sword Tower had all been left behind by past generations of elders, and each was proud and aloof.
If they refused to acknowledge a master, they would not react even if you knelt before the dais for a hundred years.
But once a sword spirit revealed its true intent and let its aura spill out, that meant it was considering accepting a master.
At such a time, sect elders barging straight in would not disturb the sword spirit. On the contrary, their presence could be tremendously helpful.
After all, these ancient broken swords had peculiar tempers. Young disciples often failed to gauge the dangers and could easily suffer an unforeseen setback at the crucial moment of acceptance.
With