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墨書 Inktalez
In the dead of night, Zen Chuan ventured alone into what seemed like a tomb that could devour all vitality. With each slow step, she could almost hear the call and sigh of past history in her heart. The tomb before her was not just ancient memories, but also unknown peril. Every step forward was a challenge. The silence of the tomb made her heartbeat sound unusually clear, as if it could resonate with the ancient swords.
She looked around, and a thousand sword shadows danced in the darkness, forming brilliant streams of light. Each sword shadow seemed to tell the joys and sorrows of the swordsmen, the vicissitudes of time. The central stone wall seemed to be the heart of the tomb, with ancient runes and swordsmanship on the wall seemingly preserving the breath of the swordsmen from a thousand years ago, each sword technique seemed to be calling out to her.
The heart of Zen Chuan was in turmoil, but her eyes shone with determination. She walked up to the stone wall, her delicate fingers trembling as she gently touched the ancient and mysterious runes. In an instant, a powerful and soul-shaking vibration emanated from deep within the stone wall, as if an ancient force had connected with her soul through a tunnel in time and space.
She tightened her grip on the short sword "Phantom Night," feeling the runes on the sword also quivering with excitement, as if sensing a call. She took a deep breath of the cold night air, then raised the sword high, its tip pointing towards the ancient stone wall, a resolute glint in her eyes. As her sword lightly touched the stone wall, a strange light burst forth from the sword's tip, instantly piercing the seal deep within the wall.
At this moment, it seems that the heavens and the earth are trembling before this force. A deafening roar instantly tore through the silence of the night, and the seal of the sword mound suddenly burst open. A beam of sword light shot out from the crack in the stone wall, piercing the sky, parting the night to reveal the brilliance of the stars.
In the reflection of the sword light, a tall figure emerged from the stone wall. There was a coldness in his brows, and his black long hair flowed like a waterfall in the Fu Ton. His eyes carried the sharpness and coldness of a sword, seemingly unaffected by endless years. His figure was upright, and every movement exuded an extraordinary temperament, just like the sword intent in the sword mound, cold and merciless.
Zen Chuan She locked eyes with him, both gazes carrying an unusual sense of scrutiny. She watched as he slowly drew the long sword " Cold Star " from his waist, its blade shimmering with a chilling aura, much like the sword intent in his eyes, deep and icy.
His voice was as cold as ice, as he asked, "Who are you?" Each word carried the sharpness and ruthlessness of the sword.
Under the cold and piercing gaze of the man, Zen Chuan felt an unprecedented sense of oppression, but there was no hint of retreat in her eyes. Gracefully, she twirled her sword "Phantom Night," pointing its tip at the man. The cold sword intent clashed with the man's sword energy, yet it failed to stir any waves.
In the profound silence of the sword mound, the man's cold and piercing gaze penetrated Zen Chuan's soul like ice. She felt an unprecedented sense of oppression, yet there was no sign of retreat in her eyes. Her short sword "Phantom Night" danced in her hand, its sharp tip pointing at the man. The ruthless sword intent clashed with the man's sword energy in the air, yet it failed to stir any waves.
"I am Zen Chuan, the new leader of the Demon Sect," her voice was cold and resolute, each word seemed to cut through the surrounding silence.
The coldness between the man's brows seemed to melt slightly, he withdrew sword intent, but still maintained a vigilant posture, "I am the Sword Master of the Heavenly Sword Palace, Xuanchi." His voice was brief and indifferent, as if all emotions were frozen on the tip of his sword.
Zen Chuan Silent. She is not unfamiliar with the Heavenly Sword Palace, but the unheard-of Xuanchi in front of her brings an unusual sense of threat. His aura is powerful and stern, like a cold unsheathed sword, forcing people to take it seriously.
After a brief standoff, Xuanchi shifted his gaze away from Zen Chuan and walked outside the sword mound, showing no intention of further communication.
"Wait." Zen Chuan she called out to him, walking up with a thousand thoughts in her mind but not knowing where to start.
Xuanchi He turned slowly, his deep eyes looking at her as if they could see through her heart, but his expression remained cold. "What's the matter?" he asked briefly.
Zen Chuan In her heart, there was a mix of emotions, she took a deep breath, suppressed her feelings, and then slowly said, "The opportunity for you to unseal it was brought by me. The unsealing of the Sword Tomb will surely cause a stir in the martial arts world. You..."
Before she could finish her words, Xuanchi seemed to understand her meaning, a subtle change flashed in his cold eyes. He looked at Zen Chuan, seemingly assessing her credibility.
In the majestic Sword Tomb, the cold Fu Ton was biting, and the aura of the sword seemed to form an invisible barrier, pressing forward with the cold gaze of Xuanchi towards Zen Chuan. Her soul trembled in the presence of these unfathomable eyes, yet her own eyes burned with an unyielding flame. As the newly appointed leader of the Demon Sect, she had long borne the mockery of fate and faced numerous trials.
She slowly sheathed the short sword "Phantom Night," lowering its tip. In an instant, her graceful figure bent slightly in a gesture of respect towards Xuanchi. Her words were calm and polite, "Senior Xuanchi, there is no grudge between the Demon Sect and the Heavenly Sword Palace. Today's events are merely the whims of fate. The world is in constant flux, and I hope we can cooperate to face the potential storms of the future."
Xuanchi's eyebrows slightly relaxed, and the icy eyes seemed to soften a bit. He looked at the cold and resolute woman in front of him, and a momentary fluctuation in his heart made his words carry a hint of sarcasm: "Cooperate? The reputation of the Demon Sect has always been unfavorable in the martial arts world. Do you think anyone would be willing to cooperate with you?"
Zen Chuan lifted the corner of her mouth in a proud yet restrained smile, and her eyes sparkled with an undeniable light. "Perhaps in the eyes of many, the Demon Sect is not trustworthy, but in this ever-changing world, sometimes, the enemy of your enemy is your ally."
Xuanchi's eyes were deep, his gaze passing over Zen Chuan's face, as if weighing every word she said. Yet in Zen Chuan's eyes, there was a clear and sincere light, making him feel an unprecedented touch in that moment. He took a deep breath, and a subtle change appeared on his cold face. "I can consider your proposal, but know this, if I find any disloyalty, I will not hesitate to eliminate you."
There was no trace of fear in Zen Chuan's eyes, instead, a hint of provocation lingered within. A faint smile lifted the corners of her lips, revealing a cold determination. She smiled gently and said, "Likewise, if you have any doubts, I won't hesitate either." Her words were cold, each one as sharp as a blade.
In the silence of the sword mound, the aura of the sword intertwines with the cold Fu Ton's blade in the air, cutting through the icy silence. This atmosphere of vigilance and contradiction seems to freeze time and space, making every moment seem eternal.
In the eyes of Xuanchi, the cold and sharp intent of the sword flickers, his gaze is profound and bottomless, as if it can penetrate all falsehoods and reach the essence. While in the eyes of Zen Chuan, there is a firm and unyielding flame burning, her cold beauty is like ice, yet also as fiery as a flame.
Their conversation was like two sharp swords, tightly intertwined, their tips colliding and sparking. Every word, every glance, seemed like a silent contest, Sword ruthless, yet the words carried emotion.
Xuanchi's gaze finally moved away from Zen Chuan's face. His expression remained stern, but in his eyes, there seemed to be an elusive change. He turned and walked steadily and slowly towards the exit of the sword mound. His figure seemed to carry a kind of pride and unyielding will, and the Cold Star, like its owner, was cold and resolute.
Zen Chuan Looking at his back, her heart was filled with mixed feelings. It seemed like her heart was also pierced by his gaze, making her feel somewhat exposed. She took a deep breath, trying to calm the turmoil in her heart, and slowly withdrew her sword intent.
She watched the Xuanchi figure in the distance, with a premonition in her heart. From this moment on, their destinies seemed to be intertwined. Whether as friends or foes.
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