Looking at the sword in front of her, which appeared both reserved and pretentious, Bai Ling felt her worldview subtly crumbling for the first time in her life.
Its claws still clung tightly to Jiang Yin’s collar.
It glanced at the Demon Imprisoning Sword with a complex expression and then, with a hint of doubt in its eyes, said, “I think this sword is a bit too dramatic.”
Jiang Yin glanced at the words formed by the ice sand.
Though she didn’t speak, she nodded in agreement internally.
She reached out and grabbed the ghost fire in her hand.
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