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The little sword danced around Fang Chen, jumping and spinning and displaying a lively, playful demeanor, as if inviting praise.
A pleased look could be seen on Fang Chen’s face.
The little sword had indeed not disappointed him; neither Fireballs nor Ice Arrows could harm it in the slightest. Even a low-grade Purple Lightning Talisman had only been able to slightly damage the Walking Corpses, but in front of the little sword, they were as soft as tofu.
Dancing in joy as it was, the little sword didn’t forget to express its dissatisfaction. "Stinky, stinky…"
Apparently, the stench of the zombies had irked it.
Fang Chen nodded slightly. "It is a little smelly…."
"Hungry, hungry… so hungry…."
"Wait a bit, I'll feed you soon," comforted Fang Chen.
They were currently communicating only on a spiritual level, so no one else could hear them. What the onlookers saw was Fang Chen smiling faintly as the aura around him became more profound by the second and a silver flying sword...
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