Xiang Yuan joyfully drew the enhanced Rouge Sword. The instant it left its sheath, a crimson gleam tore through the air, accompanied by a faint hum.
The Rouge Sword itself had not changed much. Its red glow remained bewitching and deadly, but within its crystal-clear blade, dark crimson veins crisscrossed like blood vessels, flowing slowly as if it had come alive—breathing, pulsing.
Its creamy musk fragrance remained, now with an added touch of demonic allure. The hidden scent that muddled Primordial Spirits and left them dazed had risen to an even greater level.
It felt like the rouge beauty had put on smoky eye makeup and become a crazed beauty!
A little like she had gone dark.
But a crazed beauty was still a beauty. Now he had no choice but to wrap a plate of dumplings.
"Palu, where's the sword technique compilation I told you to sort out?"
"What, you haven't finished it?"
"Then why aren't you working overtime? Are you standing around here waiting for the whip?"
After Xiang Yuan finished chewing out the lazy, good-for-nothing Palu, the sword sheath turned into a streak of black light and left a triangular sword-mark tattoo on the back of his right hand.
The divine artifact had lost its power and degenerated into something mundane, leaving behind a corpse.
It was still a sword sheath!
Dead or not, even a rotten ship had three thousand nails. As a divine artifact that had once commanded the winds and clouds, its sheath remained one of the finest treasures in the world even after death.
For instance, it was sturdy!
Its formidable defensive power made Xiang Yuan look at it again and again. He felt that wearing this equipment would grant him an immortal body, along with self-healing and the ability to halt aging.