The river of memory churned violently! Ning Zhuo absorbed all of Shentu Wuwei's lifetime of experience in sword cultivation. How to track a flying sword with divine sense after it leaves the hand.
How to compress spiritual power when increasing sword speed. How the sword body should tremble slightly before the sword light transforms into a rainbow. What the most secure distance was for a secondary sword protecting its master.
What backlash a sword cultivator felt when their life-bound sword was damaged. How to synchronize one's breathing with the sword's hum before achieving Sword-Body Unity.
When performing a sword escape, how to use the sword's edge to break through the air, how to hide the physical body in the sword's afterimage, and how to prevent the Divine Sea from being torn apart within the escaping light. These experiences and insights were incredibly detailed and minute!
The innate talent—True Self—allowed Ning Zhuo to hold firmly onto his sense of self.
“I have my own path of the Dao.”
“No matter how sharp Shentu Wuwei's Sword Dao is, it can only be used by me!”
In the stone room, Ning Zhuo slowly opened his eyes. The Three Warriors' Life-Claiming Spike lay in his palm. The rusted black luster of the spike's body had dimmed considerably, and large cracks had appeared in the soul crystal at its tail.