It was the cheapest and simplest type of grass sword available, with no blacksmith’s signature or any ornaments on it whatsoever. Many weapon shops would not even bother to display such a sword on their shelves; instead, they would likely tie such swords with rope and toss them in a corner, leaving them to collect dust. The selling price for such weapons was less than a thousand yuan.
Even the practice swords that Shi Xueman used during training were worth tens of times more than that grass sword.
She never imagined that a run-of-the-mill grass sword could emit such a resplendent light.
The light emitted from the blade resembled that of brilliant fireworks—it was the most dazzling sword glint she had ever seen. The moment the grass sword left Ai Hui’s hand, it transformed into a ray of brilliance that was as fine as a steady drizzle. It left a gorgeous trail of light as it pierced through the air, flying towards the hooligan at the mouth of the alley.
Buzz! Buzz! Buzz!
