Shen Fei gripped the sword's hilt and lifted it off the bed.
With the blade suspended before him, he turned his wrist, tracing a short arc through the air. The sound of it cutting through the air was faint, edged with a restrained sharpness.
He carefully felt the changes in the hilt.
When he had first gripped it, his palm had met a cool sensation. Now, most of that chill had faded, replaced by a gentle warmth that fit snugly against his hand, as though the hilt were actively adapting to his grip.
The friction between his palm and the cloth wrapping felt finer than before. The white patterns on the cloth had not made it rougher; instead, they made it feel a little smoother.
He held the sword level and channeled Soul Force into the hilt. It spread along the patterns inside the hilt toward the blade, and this time, the sensation was completely different.
Previously, when his Soul Force entered the Ink Cloud Sword, it encountered the slightest resistance at certain points, like water flowing through a riverbed with hidden reefs. It could still pass through, but its speed was affected.
Now, once his Soul Force entered the hilt, it flowed unhindered along the internal patterns toward the blade. Every junction was as clear as a river channel dredged in advance. Spiritual Power circulated inside the blade nearly twice as fast as before, without the slightest resistance.
Shen Fei withdrew the sword into his Soul Sea.
The instant it entered his Soul Sea, he sensed a weight different from before.
Previously, when the Ink Cloud Sword stood at the center of his Soul Sea, it had been like a pillar sunk beneath the water-quiet and steady, yet separated from the Soul Sea by an indescribable barrier.
Now, as