Whoosh, whoosh~
A bitter wind swept across the endless snowfields, carrying snowflakes as large as goose feathers.
Li Huaichuan walked alone through Sword River with his sword in hand, his cloak snapping behind him. His fingertips lightly rubbed the sword hilt at his waist as scenes of everything he had pursued since childhood flashed through his mind again.
The Worn Sword at his waist was named Listening Snow, the last renowned sword forged from Sword River stone and the sword upon which the Li Mountain Sword Lodge had built its foundations. First wielded by the Grandmaster, it had followed the Grand Ancestor Zhou in founding his empire. Later, the third-generation lodge master had carried it throughout the entire Witch Cult Rebellion. After his martyrdom, allies of the righteous path had brought it back.
Though its grade fell short of an Immortal Artifact, it was a genuine heirloom sword. The opponents it had defeated and the tumultuous years it had weathered were in no way inferior to those of the sect Immortal Weapons renowned throughout their regions.
The name "Listening Snow" also held a rather special meaning.
Snow fell without a sound, just as a sword passed without a shadow. How could ordinary people speak of hearing it?
But someone whose sword intent could leave its mark had cleaved a river with one stroke, leaving sword intent that had taken a thousand years to dissipate. Its final lingering trace had been forged into this sword, allowing later generations to feel its edge even now.
What Listening Snow listened for was not the sound of falling snow, but that wisp of sky-piercing sword intent from ancient times mingled with the wind and snow.
Li Huaichuan dearly wished that one day, he too could cleave a river with a single stroke, so that