The sect falsely accused me of stealing the sword, destroyed my cultivation, and threw me into the abyss of sword burial.
Little did I know, under the abyss, I held an ancient Netherworld sword that no one dared to touch.
"This sword bites the master, and the evil spirit corrodes the heart. The cultivator will die without any chance of life."
"I'm already in hell, why should I be afraid of falling into the netherworld again?"
From now on, I use evil to refine my bones and my blood to nourish my sword.
Refining the most ferocious evil spirit and practicing the most forbidden swordsmanship.
Three years later, when I stepped out of the ruins.
The talented senior brother who took my sword bone back then came with the sword: "The traitor to the sect, be punished!"
Behind me, thousands of swords roared lowly, and evil spirits surged into the sky.
"Senior brother, your sword bone..."
"It's time to pay back."
