As Noire took hold of the two short swords, the remaining weapons began to slowly dissolve in particles of chalk that crumbled apart into the raging winds. With a sigh, Noire's knuckles crackled as he strengthened his hold over the elastic grip of each sword. Them, Noire felt a weird resonance with each blade as he steadily poured his Qi essence into the weapons.
A faintly disordered surge of information erupted, slowly merging into Noire's physical memory. It seemed like a set of techniques for silent assassination at first glance.
It mostly relied on silent steps, weapon concealment, successive strikes that contained no pricing nor stabbing, merely decisive finishers that revolved around decapitating and crippling mortals via severing their limbs, meridian, acupoints, and whatnot.
Noire's lips twitched. He was not elated one bit. Rather, he felt suffocated.
Currently, he had too many laws and cultivation techniques to consolidate and meditate upon.
