"Ding ding ding ding~~~~~~~~"
Sword artifacts fell to the ground, lifeless and scattered in disarray.
The Jade Blood Sword Spirit hovered above, surrounded by fewer famous swords that it could still marshal than before. The sword spirit now realized that its adversary was neither a green, inexperienced sword spirit youth nor a decrepit, discarded sword spirit at the end of its days.
"You are a remarkable sword master," an old-sounding voice said.
Zhu Minglang opened his eyes, and looked around, half-expecting to find some temple sweeper protecting this place, but the chamber held only these famous swords.
Zhu Minglang set his gaze on the hovering Jade Blood Sword Spirit, only to notice a nearly imperceptible soul shadow on the Jade Blood Sword, a faint red mist.
"You understand human language?" Zhu Minglang was quite surprised.
