Humm-
That sword cry, desolate and distant, seemed to pierce through countless ages. With a tremor bordering on "joy," it soared into the heavens from the deepest reaches of the Göktürk camp.
He Chen's hand abruptly stiffened on the sword's hilt.
He lowered his head, staring in disbelief at the Kunlun Sword at his waist, which had suddenly come "alive."
Ever since he had returned with the sword, this Divine Artifact had remained as still as an abyss. Even when he studied it day and night, communing with it through his Divine Soul, it had only answered with a few faint cries. Never had it displayed such...
Violent, almost uncontrollable resonance.
It trembled.
It keened.
The densely packed ancient runes flowing across its blade all lit up, bursting with dazzling, deep-blue radiance. It was as though a creature that had slumbered for a thousand years had suddenly opened its eyes, gazing greedily and urgently toward the distant battlements.
Toward that figure in blue robes.
"...Who are you calling?"
He Chen's voice was dry and low.
An intuition both utterly absurd and utterly real climbed his spine like a venomous snake.
The sword's impatient cries were not answering him, its "wielder," at all. They were answering the man on the battlements.
"Impossible..."
A flicker of panic that even he failed to notice crossed He Chen's eyes.
He abruptly tightened his grip on the hilt, reversing the flow of True Qi throughout his body to forcibly suppress the sword's nearly unbridled cries.
Yet the Kunlun Sword seemed possessed of a spirit. No matter how fiercely his True Qi surged, its humming did not subside in the slightest. Instead, it grew ever more urgent, ever more jubilant.
He even felt a violent struggle against his palm, as though at any moment it would