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The fat monk swallowed hard, ignoring the inn’s shopboy, and fixed his gaze on Qingyun Temple across the street.
“Did I… hallucinate just now? I could’ve sworn a beam of divine light fell into that temple…!” He gulped again.
Inside the temple, Li Yanchu glanced at the Jiaoslayer in his hand. Its shape was still similar to a Tang Saber, without much outward change. Water-like patterns rippled along the blade, its color dim and ancient.
But the aura of sharpness it radiated was overwhelming; it looked like a heavy sword without an edge that could be wielded well effortlessly.
The more he looked, the more he liked it. This blade had followed him for a long time, chopping ghosts and demons as effortlessly as slicing vegetables. Plus, it fit his hand perfectly.
After this enhancement,...
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