"Wait a minute..."
His pupils contracted.
"I comprehended the Severing Sword Concept from within the Sword Saint's Tomb."
The memory became vivid.
An endless burial ground stretched before him. Thousands upon thousands of swords had been embedded into the earth like a forest of graves. Some swords were snapped in half. Some had rusted with age. Some still radiated traces of killing intent so sharp that they seemed unwilling to die.
They had not looked decorative.
They had looked real.
They had looked like the remains of fallen swordsmen.
Among all of them, Max had chosen the sword resting at the highest peak visible to him. That sword had resonated with his heart, and through it he had comprehended the path of severance.
Now, standing before this boulder, the meaning of that scene felt entirely different.
"If those swords were genuine relics..."
His breathing unconsciously slowed.
"Then did each blade belong to someone who once fought the Sword Saint and died?"
