After all, as a sword spirit, Bai Tang needed sword intent to replenish what she expended. That sounded perfectly reasonable.
"Me?"
A heavy pressure welled up in Jiang Yang's heart, something he rarely felt.
Sword intent was hardly something found on every street corner. In ancient times and in the present alike, those who cultivated sword intent were held in exceptional esteem and could be called immortals of the sword.
According to the records, throughout the entire Zheng Kingdom, across the territories of its three great sects, sword immortals could be counted on one hand.
The Yi Sword Gate claimed to be the orthodox successor to the ancient sword cultivators, trumpeting its reputation loud enough to shake the heavens. Yet how many sword immortals had it actually produced?
As the saying went, "Geng metal breaks easily, but sword intent is hard to find." That was not the slightest exaggeration. Talent for the Sword Dao was elusive and intangible. If you did not have it, you simply did not have it; no amount of forcing could bring it into being.
"Then what happens if you never get replenished?"
The more Jiang Yang thought about it, the more urgent it felt, and he hurriedly pressed her for an answer.
"If I never get replenished... nothing much would happen... probably."
Bai Tang actually had no memories concerning this and was not entirely certain herself. She hesitated before saying:
"At worst, I suppose I would fall asleep again. Only, there would be no telling when I might wake up."
"How could that possibly be all right!"
Naturally, Jiang Yang could not accept that. It was not that he depended on her; he had simply grown accustomed to having someone chatter away beside him.
Bai Tang's recent reticence had already left him feeling deeply out