As Shen Can channeled his witch power, only the witch inscriptions on the ring-pommel blade lit up; no energy was unleashed beyond the blade.
Clearly, this blade was of a lower grade than the previous Broken Blade. It should have been a Second Tier Witchcraft Weapon.
The witch inscriptions made the blade sharper and sturdier.
"Uncle Huo Shan, this is just right for you."
As he spoke, Shen Can tossed the blade to Huo Shan. The nearby clansmen all revealed longing looks.
"Don't rush. Keep looking, dig deeper. If there are blades, there might be bones."
Wu Zhiqi had said that four or five thousand people from the Ling Yu Tribe had come here. Even if they had been small Iron Wood Boats, there should have been several hundred people aboard.
Could they all have been rescued?
There were so many large tribes. What was wrong with a few clansmen dying and leaving behind some weapons and armor?
Just then, seeing that Shen Can had stopped to rest, Huo Zhong handed him a clay jar.
"Master, have some water."
Huo Zhong was not one of the guards. He had come along to learn.
A'Yu was here too. He was responsible for carrying Shen Can's water and food.
During these days in the ancestral temple, Huo Zhong had worked earnestly, never slacking off or playing tricks.
But although Huo Zhong had a feel for witch inscriptions, his cultivation of their artistic conception remained agonizingly slow.
There was nothing Shen Can could do no matter how anxious he was. At present, there was only this one old sapling left in the tribe. Even if he wanted to wash his hands of witchcraft, he could not.
Otherwise, Huo Zhong should have been doing this work today.
Shen Can looked at his disciple, who