A long sword twisted in black and white lay leisurely in its sheath.
The sword wasn't long, just a little over five feet.
It was this length because it was a dharma tool, not a divine weapon.
Black and white mists trailed around the blade, a spectacle that represented the unique material of the sword— it was unquestionably imbued with yin and yang essence.
Upon inspecting the entirety of this Yin-Yang sword, Jiang Yuan felt quite satisfied.
With this sword in hand, his combat techniques would become more diverse.
He then squeezed out a drop of blood infused with minute pieces of golden particles from his fingertip and immersed it into the body of the sword.
Instantly, the sword felt like an extension of his own flesh and blood.
With a flicker of his mind, the Yin-Yang sword gently floated into the air.
There was a faint feeling of unfamiliarity.
After a minor test, Jiang Yuan returned the sword back into its sheath.
