The fine, blood-colored sand was mixed with Zheng Xiu's blood. With a thought, Zheng Xiu made a grasping motion, and the sand condensed in midair, forming countless exquisite little swords.
Countless little swords circled at the entrance of Richan Valley, resembling a sword formation. The last of the scattered sand gathered between Zheng Xiu's loosely clenched fingers, forming an illusory, translucent "Sand Sword."
The sword was but an outline, lacking physical substance. Yet, the moment Zheng Xiu gripped it, his entire aura changed. He opened and closed his eyes, and it was as if he had become a different, unfamiliar person. His eyes were filled with worldly weariness, holding a tranquility that came from having witnessed all the world's glories and griefs.
