At the center of the Sword Pool, heaven and earth pressed close. White vapor and eerie light churned ceaselessly, almost dizzying to behold. At its very heart, black and white converged into a mass of chaos.
Beneath their feet lay blue bricks. The center of the Sword Pool had yet to open, and nothing had changed.
A man in silver-gray Daoist robes strode through a constantly rippling curtain. Intricate star patterns on his sleeves flickered in and out of sight.
He held a pitch-black Dharma Sword level in his hand. Bloody light flowed over it, and a savage malice arose of its own accord, constantly battering his mind.
Wei Yan surveyed his surroundings. Not another soul was present-not even Senior Brother Qi Wen. That surprised him a little.
The blade trembled, bloody light pouring endlessly from within to assault his mind. He remained unshaken, holding fast to his sword heart while that brutal, vicious aura washed over him.
To reach this place, one first had to deal with those troublesome sword phantoms, then sense the way with a sword and find the correct direction amid their interference. The threshold was exceedingly high.
Wei Yan had originally been a slave in a mine. His master had recognized his promise and brought him back to the sect to cultivate. His talent for the Sword Dao was exceptional, surpassing even Qi Wen's by a considerable margin.
With a light sweep of his Dharma Sword, Wei Yan stirred his magical power. Deep, sinister killing intent arose, gradually suppressing the disturbances in the sword. It mingled with the bloody light, becoming streams of foul blood balefulness that writhed incessantly across the ground.
What this man cultivated was clearly not "cosmic stars," but "baleful qi."
After a long wait, someone finally emerged from behind him: a