The chill of the Glacial Bite longsword, strapped securely to his back, felt reassuring against Wang Jian's simple grey outer sect robe.
It was a true low-grade spirit artifact, a significant upgrade from his old Night Fang, and resonated well with the versatile Spiritual Energy cultivated by his Steller Demonic Meridian Scripture. He'd briefly considered using Ma Zhaolong's bloodthirsty demonic saber, but common sense prevailed.
'Wielding an obviously demonic weapon while surrounded by disciples of righteous sects, especially inside a place called the Blood Forbidden Ground? Not the brightest idea. Might as well paint a target on my back.' He had, however, kept the demonic saber carefully tucked away in one of his storage pouches. 'Emergencies might require… less orthodox solutions.'
