Back in his office, Fang Yuan sat alone with his gaze fixated on a long, lacquered box.
Its surface practically gleamed faintly, the royal seal burned into the wood like an ever-watchful eye.
His fingers tapped the desk once before he leaned forward, sliding the box open.
Inside lay a sword, old, weathered, its blade rusted almost beyond recognition.
Another rusted sword.
Fang Yuan's lips curved faintly as he muttered,
"Du Juan's sword was the same when I found her. Rusted, worn down… discarded."
He tilted his head, eyes narrowing.
"Is rusted sword getting popular lately?"
The words had barely left his mouth when the sword trembled violently.
—BAAM!
A blinding radiance burst forth, a pillar of light shooting straight through the roof.
The heavens themselves seemed to split, and for an instant, the brilliance was no less than that of a true Heaven-grade weapon's awakening.
Except it was not one.
