Yun Lintian tested the sword's balance. It was completely different from the lightweight blades he preferred—this weapon demanded power, not finesse.
"I'll learn," he promised, meeting Zhan Tian's gaze.
The War God grinned. "See that you do. That blade thirsts for worthy foes—don't let it grow bored."
He stepped back, his form beginning to fade again. "Remember, boy—true mastery isn't about the weapon. It's about the will behind it."
As Zhan Tian's body dissolved into crimson motes, his final words lingered in the air:
"Let it drink well."
Then he was gone.
The Eternal Battlefield shuddered—then collapsed like a broken mirror, reality itself folding away.
When the world reformed, Yun Lintian found himself standing in an endless white void. Heaven Sunderer's weight in his hands was the only anchor to reality.
Linlin and Qingqing tumbled onto the soft grass beside him, their tiny forms bruised but alive.
