บท 92: Using the soul of a Heaven Realm demon to condense a sword!

'I don't want to die.'

It was strange, Han Muye thought as he looked at that beautiful face.

His body was frozen in place, unable to move at all. His entire mind seemed to have cracked open.

On one hand, it was restrained by a strange force and had to stare into the female cultivator's eyes.

On the other hand, his mind was moving fast, trying its best to mobilize the sword Qi and sword intent in his sea of Qi and dantian, wanting to fight to his death.

Han Muye did not speak, and the female cultivator's smile widened.

"No wonder you were chosen by the Nine Mystic Sword. You're really quite capable. At the very least, not many people in the Sword Pavilion can maintain such composure."

The female cultivator raised her hand and gently placed it on Han Muye's shoulder. She stroked his cheek and the top of his head, then gently clasped the small bronze sword in his hair.

"Hum—"