On the other hand, Bai Qing was scampering toward the Earth Mountain, his footsteps quick and urgent. As he moved, he felt a strange sensation—a fleeting, almost imperceptible buzz, like the whisper of a sword slicing through the air.
At first, he dismissed it as a trick of the wind or a figment of his imagination. Yet, the sound lingered in his mind, faint but persistent, like a distant echo calling to him. He frowned, his brow furrowing as he quickened his pace, driven by an inexplicable urgency.
Unbeknownst to him, the sword buzz was no mere illusion; it was the swift, ethereal presence of a sword spirit, one that had carried Xiao Ming away, leaving no traces for anyone to follow.
ZZZZ!
The sharp buzz pierced his ears once more, louder this time, as if the mountain itself were summoning him. Bai Qing halted, his spiritual sense sharpening as he locked onto the source of the sound.