The branch in Braydon Neal's hand crumbled to powder, unable to withstand the overwhelming force.
It was time to use the true killing weapon.
A small black sword emerged from Braydon's forehead, expanding into a three-foot-long blade with a black scabbard.
"When I mastered the eighth sword, I concealed the others. It's been six thousand years…" Braydon murmured softly.
The concealed edge was a type of sword technique he had been cultivating for six thousand years.
Now that it was unleashed, how terrifying would it be?
As Braydon grasped the scabbard, his left hand clenched the hilt.
Swoosh!
The sword was drawn, and a cold light flashed.
That light pierced through Maknum, and the bone-chilling cold froze the blood of those who felt it.
The phoenix girl and the stone monkey's eyes reflected fear as they stared at the small black sword in Braydon's hand.
This sword was not an eon artifact!
