Tyler held the ancient sword in his hand and carefully examined it from top to bottom. After being cleansed of the countless impurities accumulated over one hundred thousand years, the weapon looked completely different.
The once-rusted blade now possessed a brilliant silver gleam, and whenever the spiritual light in the room passed over it, a faint radiance rippled across its surface. Its handle was made from a strange gray stone that seemed to have been naturally carved into the shape of a sword hilt. There were no unnecessary decorations, yet it possessed an ancient and profound feeling that ordinary weapons could never imitate.
"Your appearance really changed," Tyler muttered.
The ancient sword gave a faint buzz and floated.
"Of course. I was originally a peerless weapon. What you saw before was merely the result of being buried underground for a hundred thousand years."
