Ai Hui had no idea that someone was secretly observing them, but he wouldn’t really care even if he knew.
He was exceptionally focused right now; all his attention was on the grass sword in his hand.
Never had he imagined that there would come a day when he could experience the world through the “eyes” of a sword. He felt as if he had possessed the grass sword, turning it from an inanimate object into a living thing.
If he hadn’t bought it from Manager Li’s shop himself, Ai Hui would probably have thought that this grass sword was some kind of legendary weapon.
Back when he was reading swordplay manuals in the swordsman school, Ai Hui would often chance upon passages discussing the mythical sword souls. These were, of course, legends of old, and now that the swordsmen were long gone, there was no longer anyone who could verify such things.
Ai Hui had treated these passages as mere stories.
The cultivators of the past had left behind many bizarre accounts, but even those were no match for the seemingly exaggerated topics of the swordsmen. He had read accounts of swordsmen who were too embarrassed to even leave their homes without first achieving a certain skill level.
Ai Hui was initially astonished by the things he had read, but the sheer number of such accounts soon left him numb. Yes, indeed, today you put out the sun, tomorrow you shattered the moon, and the day after you could only destroy the stars. Oh, did you say that there were too many stars?
The more he read, the more accustomed he became to these oddities. Eventually, these stories no longer made him feel any shock or surprise.
But, today, the grass sword he was wielding seemed to be alive. The feeling wasn’t particularly intense, but it was exceptionally clear. Could it be that swords really were alive?
Ai Hui was still unsure.
Every swordplay manual would mention at least once that swords had essences within them. What they meant was that every sword, when cast, was bestowed with its own spiritual characteristics.
Sword essences varied in strength, and some were even able to grow along with their owners, further evolving into sword spirits and sword souls.
Since this was written in practically all the swordplay manuals, Ai Hui believed that it wasn’t all nonsense and might have been actually true during the Cultivation Era. But the times had since changed, with elemental energy becoming dominant after the disintegration of spiritual force. Now that even the swordsmen were gone, how could there still be sword essences?
Ai Hui suppressed these distracting thoughts and executed a simple sword stroke.
He had read countless swordplay manuals and had an understanding of swordplay that few today could match. His actions were accurate and well-controlled.
When he had just planted the sword embryo, the only literature that he could seek help from were the swordplay manuals. Strangely, it was the low-level manuals that were of use to him. The more advanced the manual, the less applicable they were.
Brandishing a grass sword was usually effortless for Ai Hui.
Today, however, this feat could hardly be said to be effortless.
Ai Hui seemed to have become one with the grass sword; he felt as though he was bound by the surrounding air. He was not accustomed to this restrictive sensation, and Ai Hui felt like he was trapped under water, repressed by forces all around him.
He knew that this was merely an illusion, but the experience was too intense.
Thrusting the sword just a little bit faster made it feel as though he had slammed into a large wave, causing the blade to wobble.
Ai Hui had no choice but to increase his effort as each stroke became heavier than the last. His muscles were bulging and trembling from the effort, like a heavy-duty belt driving a huge wheel.
Ai Hui’s sword strokes slowed down as the sword became heavier and the air resistance increased.
Beads of sweat rolled down Ai Hui’s body as his muscles continued to churn out massive amounts of power. All of a sudden, he felt as if he had finally pierced through that invisible resistive force.
With a sudden jolt, the grass sword in his hand spontaneously emitted dazzling rays of light. Its brightness was so intense that not even the scorching midday sun could mask its brilliance.
The light that had burst forth from the grass sword blinded Ai Hui. He noticed that the grass sword had become much lighter.
A loud boom followed!
A powerful earth-rending force sent Ai Hui flying through the air before he could even react.
The massive blunt force left Ai Hui thoroughly concussed, his ears ringing. An unknown amount of time had passed before he heard Fatty’s anxious voice coming from what seemed like quite a distance away. “Ai Hui…Ai Hui, are you all right? How are you feeling?”
The surreal sounds gradually became clearer as Ai Hui’s pupils began to focus.
Fatty anxiously let out a stream of words. “Ai Hui, can you not scare me like that? What kind of training is this? It looks more like you’re committing suicide! Here I had thought that you became more tranquil, but it seems like you’re as violent as ever—no, you’re even more violent now. I don’t get it, aren’t you doing just fine? What’s more, I’m the one who owes money, not you…”
Fatty’s long-winded nagging reminded Ai Hui of their time in the Wilderness.
His whole body was unbearably numb—an aftereffect of that enormous impact he had just suffered. Although it had disrupted the flow of his blood and qi, it could heal in moments. After ten seconds, he finally recovered some movement, and he struggled to stand up.
He spat out the sand in his mouth, still feeling dizzy.
What… just happened?
Ai Hui’s gaze fell onto where he had previously stood. What he saw shook him deeply, his reaction similar to a deer in headlights.
A large pit, which was six meters in diameter and three meters deep, appeared where he had last stood.
Duanmu Huanghun stared blankly at the pit. Not even the sudden influx of figures and noise could rouse him from his daze.
“What happened? What’s going on?”
“Did a wild beast get in?”
“Wasn’t this place supposed to be safe?”
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