Qi Tianque's words immediately turned many people's thoughts toward the Sang Yu Mu sword. They thought that if they could not take the Night Feather Sword, obtaining Sang Yu Mu would still be an excellent outcome.
At once, cries of urging rang out without end.
Even figures like Su Wangyao, who had the strength to covet the Night Feather Sword, were temporarily suppressed by the tide of voices.
Yin Moyin slowly opened the sword case in his hand in the face of the crowd's momentum.
An elegant yet luxurious treasured sword entered everyone's sight. As the sword was drawn, a trace of emotion surfaced in every gaze.
Sang Yu Mu was over three feet long in its entirety. Its hilt was wrapped in fine dark-red silk cord, making it exceptionally comfortable to hold; its guard had been cast in the shape of mulberry leaves, exquisite and refined; its blade was bright in color, like mulberry leaves beneath the setting sun at dusk; its edge shimmered with a faint golden-red gleam, as if steeped in the lingering radiance of sunset, adding countless measures to its overall beauty.
Yin Moyin raised his hand and gave it a light flourish. The sword edge traced a graceful arc, its sharp force sending ripples through the spiritual energy around it.
"Good sword!"
Nie Wushuang could not help but exclaim. Great craftsmanship showed in the smallest details; from Yin Moyin's casual flourish alone, he could already see the sword's extraordinary quality.
To say nothing of more distant comparisons, it was at least a notch better than the sword Nie Lingshan had received not long ago.
Nie Wushuang had yet to find a high-grade personal sword suited to himself, and he had always harbored a persistent longing for one.
Though this Sang Yu Mu was somewhat dainty