The sword was named Sunken Water, and sunken water bore no scent. The Sunken Water Sword pursued lives without mercy; countless enemies had died beneath its blade, leaving wronged spirits behind. Yet today, it had taken not an enemy's life, but the life of one of its own sect's disciples. The old man's expression was dark and terrifying. Internal power poured into the blade, and an inch of white sword radiance extended from its broken tip. Few in the Sword Palace could reach this realm of condensing energy into a sword. Aside from Palace Master Qiu Xianguang, only three elders could achieve it. The old man before him was Xie Changliu, one of those three great elders.
Xie Changliu, Qi Changguang, and He Changsheng were the three most senior elders still living in the Sword Palace. Advanced in years, they had long since withdrawn from worldly affairs; even the younger disciples of the Sword Palace seldom knew who they were. But that did not mean their strength was lacking. After Qiu Xianguang took charge, the three elders had retired behind the scenes. One had chosen to wander the world, another to cultivate in seclusion, and another to disappear among the masses. Xie Changliu had transformed himself into an inconspicuous menial worker in the Sword Palace. Apart from Qiu Xianguang and a handful of others, no one knew that this taciturn old man was an elder of such revered seniority.
Chilling killing intent spread in every direction from Xie Changliu, enveloping the entire Wisdom Sword Hall like an invisible net. No other Sword Palace disciples remained inside. Only Ji Feihua stood there quietly, his eyes deep as the sea, his bearing proud, his hands clasped behind his back. Looking at the Sunken Water Sword in Xie Changliu's hand, he wore a