An hour later, Huang Zhengyang finally lowered his head and stopped staring at the sky.
His smile gradually widened until his face was full of joy: "Haha, congratulations Mr. Chu, you've succeeded gloriously!"
Chu Zhiyuan handed the Golden Sword to Huang Zhengyang and smiled, "It's because of this."
Huang Zhengyang took the Golden Sword, and suddenly his hand sank, pressed down an inch.
He made a sound of surprise, staring at this Golden Sword.
With his cultivation now, it's almost impossible for something so heavy to be hard for him to hold.
This Golden Sword seemed not heavy, yet unexpectedly heavy, weighing at least a thousand pounds.
This was somewhat strange, almost impossibly heavy, beyond standards and common sense.
Chu Zhiyuan smiled and said, "This is formed by gathering all those gold dust."
"That much gold dust?"
"More than imagined." Chu Zhiyuan nodded: "How about this sword?"
