All this time.
About the Hidden Sword Art.
Xu Taiping had harbored two questions-
"What use is a hidden sword?"
"How do you draw it?"
If a sword could not defend you, could not slay enemies, could not display its might, what use was it?
If you had utterly forgotten a sword, how were you to draw it?
At this moment, as he recalled Ninth Uncle's words once more, Xu Taiping finally understood.
This sword Ninth Uncle had given him.
Was not for slaying enemies, nor for displaying might.
It was for protecting his dignity and guarding his Dao heart.
With this sword.
Even if the demon gods of the Nine Abysses awakened, overturned mountains and rivers, extinguished gods and Buddhas, brought the Heavenly Dao crashing down, and demanded that he prostrate himself.
He would dare not to kneel!
With this sword.
When he faced injustice, when his loved ones were humiliated, when his home and country lay shattered, when all living beings sank into the sea of suffering.
He would dare to rise and resist, dare to slay his enemies with his own hands, dare to don armor and fight bloody battles, dare to lead all those living beings out of the sea of suffering!
As for how to draw this sword after utterly forgetting it.
A pair of shattered fists, a body riddled with wounds, a depleted core.
And, of course, most importantly, a reason to fight even at the cost of death.
"Thank you, Ninth Uncle."
"Thank you, Master."
"This is exactly the sword I wanted."
Xu Taiping's lips moved as he murmured to himself. Then he turned to look toward the dome of the Golden Scale Pool, a faint smile touching his lips as he continued:
"Thanks to this sword, I can fight for the Seven