The Sword Saint's sword has been restored.
Lord Zheng wasn't too surprised because he had suspected this for a while, and in truth, he was mentally prepared for it.
In this world, there are always some people who will shine like stars, even if they are briefly covered by clouds. When the sky clears, you will find them continuing their brilliance.
Out of habit, he again reached out to touch the Pixiu he had nearly used as a footrest earlier, expressing a bit of guilt.
Immediately,
Lord Zheng raised his head again, looking at the masked man surrounded by his guards.
When he found his knife had lost its sharpness, he started using his mouth, trying to replace the effect of his blade.
The Sword Saint did not draw his sword again, but stood quietly, not trying to discern it, perhaps too lazy to do so, or perhaps feeling that in this scene no amount of argument could change the heart of one destined to die.
The Sword Saint remembered something his master had once told him:
