Sword Biting

They took away his spiritual stones, exercises and storage bag. The only thing I didn't steal was the broken sword - because the scrap metal shop wouldn't accept it. Chen Chen is a casual cultivator. There is no sect, no skills, and no background. On the day he was chased until he was cornered, he squatted at the end of the alley clutching the rusty iron sword, and blood fell on the sword drop by drop. There are two words engraved on the hilt of the sword - "Sword Eater". He thought it was a name. Later I found out it was a warning. The moment the blood seeped into the rust, the sword shimmered. A soft voice penetrated into my mind: "You smell of blood. Are you injured?" There is a spirit in the broken sword. A flame who has died once and claims not to be a ghost. She told him: This sword can swallow the spirituality of other magic weapons and use it to evolve itself. The problem is - good magic weapons are in the hands of the strong. All he could get was trash thrown away by others. It doesn't matter. Trash is enough. From rusty iron to bronze, from bronze to silver, from the scrap iron shop, there is nothing that can break the sky and crack the earth. He is not practicing. He is raising a sword.