Lao Lu's heart was racing. The guiltier Nan Sword became, the more the old man should have rid himself of it. Without it, he could have raised a tiger.
Nan Sword was not easily wielded. At the outermost perimeter, when the Martial Emperor had his moment of judgment, his body sustained grave injury. Nan Sword's heart was like water, constantly desolate.
Securing the Nan Blade here would deepen the understanding of the human sword and of unity itself.
With a sweep of Elder Lü's robes, a familiar force of the soul touched the ground. Earth seemed to heat up again. The ground's waves were like the maw of a wild beast, ready to swallow the Nan Blade whole.
Such was the Devil's thought!
Nan Sword's soul power gathered at its back. Silver wings slowly unfolded. The "Sword of the South" and the ticket to the "Swordsmanship" nine-day affair.
The wings of the sword—a ghostly notion!
