Master, It's Your Turn to Choose the Way to Die.

"They said I was a Taoist genius who could only be seen in a century, but no one told me that my master had raised me for eighteen years just to take my spiritual blood sacrificial sword." Shen Jinshuang was once the most favored junior sister of Xuantian Sect. The master often caressed the top of her hair and praised her for her extraordinary bones and promising future; The eldest brother holds the sword flower for her hand by hand, and gives her all the good things; The senior sister of the Medicine Pavilion brought the soul-nourishing soup every day and watched her drink it without leaving any drop. Until the full moon night, she saw with her own eyes—— The master's silver needle pierced her natal lamp, and the lamp oil mixed with scarlet blood was fed drop by drop into the Zhenzong Evil Sword that suffocated with dim light. "Don't be afraid, I'm late." The cold tip of the sword touched the center of her eyebrows, and the master's tone was as gentle as coaxing a child to take medicine: "Your master was as big as you when he forged this sword with his own flesh and blood. You were born... To live for the Xuantian Sect." Three days later, the Black Demonic Abyss invaded the realm. The reflection of her dilated pupils was reflected in the tea soup brought by the senior brother. He tightened her collar for her, his fingertips trembled slightly, and his voice was so low that it was almost inaudible: "Junior sister... This is all because of our last resort." The moment the bone-corroding chain tightened around her wrist, Shen Jinshuang suddenly smiled. She crushed the jade bracelet on her wrist—— The whole sword pavilion was filled with thousands of soldiers wailing! The ancient sword that had been drinking her blood for eighteen years actually trembled and broke away from the dark iron sword frame, falling crashing down in front of her blood-stained embroidered shoes. The blood-stained toe of the shoe crushed the leader's token, and the broken jade splattered like stars. Ning Wan lowered her eyes, stroked the blood lines on the sword's spine, and asked with a smile: "Master, tell me... Who is the sword now?"