The longer Lu Ming looked at the tattoo, the more extraordinary it seemed. Its aura was nothing like an ordinary tattoo; instead, it seemed to possess a faint life of its own.
"Wen Ning, why does that tattoo of yours look a little strange to me?"
Wen Ning's grin grew even wider.
"What tattoo? It's a weapon."
Lu Ming looked even more bewildered.
"A weapon? What kind of weapon grows on your arm?"
Zhang Siyu held her sour plum drink. She lacked Lu Ming's cultivation, so all she could tell was that the tattoo was beautiful.
"All right, stop showing off and tell us."
Wen Ning lowered his sleeve.
"Well, that's a long story."
He had barely started when a voice suddenly sounded in his mind.
"If you dare tell them what happened up there, I'll scorch your arm into a roasted pig's trotter."
Wen Ning cut himself off at once.
He glanced down at his right arm, grimaced, and swallowed all the nonsense that had been about to spill from his mouth.
"Ahem, it's nothing special. My Great-Grandmaster dotes on me, so he gave me a Divine Weapon."
He patted his arm, beaming.
"That's all there is to it."
Lu Ming rolled his eyes at Wen Ning.
"Keep showing off, you smug bastard!"
He set the bottle of body wash in his hand on the shelf and muttered sourly.
"The Heavenly Venerable is so unfair. He gives you all the good stuff, but he's always so harsh with me."
At that, Wen Ning nearly burst with pride.
"Of course! I'm his godson, a bona fide fourth-generation member of the Interception Sect."
He leaned casually against the counter and pointed his thumb at his own nose, looking so smug that he was practically asking to be punched.
"Why don't you