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Mu Qingyun was holding a tiny tile. Two crossed swords were carved upon its surface—one black, one white. There was nothing else on it.
Yet, the moment it appeared, everyone—including Long Chen—felt their skin crawl. The will of the Sword Dao erupted from it, pressing down on their souls.
The weaker ones screamed in terror, stumbling back as if a single stray thought from this object could kill them.
They had never seen anything so suffocating. Even without being activated, its aura alone was terrifying.
“This aura… is it a relic of the Sword God’s line?” Long Chen asked.
He had sensed a similar aura from Yue Zifeng after refining the divine sword’s fragment.
“Brother San, you really are amazing! You recognize its origins? That’s right, it’s the Sword God Writ,” Mu Qingyun replied,...
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