"Nothing is impossible." Qin Heng gently shook his head, raised his palm, and reached for the Cold Moon Sword in Jiang Luwei's hand, saying indifferently, "I said, this is just a piece of scrap metal, how dare it claim to be a Divine Weapon?"
Clang!!
The clear sound of the blade echoed throughout the universe; it was not the cry of an attack, but rather a mournful wail. With a single distant grasp from Qin Heng, the radiant glow on the Cold Moon Sword's surface dimmed and eventually shattered, turning into a dull and lusterless curved blade!
Then, it broke free from Jiang Luwei's grasp, flew through the air, and landed in Qin Heng's hand. Qin Heng lightly traced his finger along the blade, and the Cold Moon Sword restored its former brilliance.
