Ch. 8 - Shadow Tyrant
The weapons on the first floor of the Divine Armory Pavilion looked completely ordinary.
There were no radiant glows or fearsome auras, just plain, dusty tools lined up quietly on the walls.
Xu Zimo stepped inside. The air smelled faintly of rust. Because disciples of the True Martial Sacred Ground rarely came to the first floor to select weapons, many of the mortal-grade weapons had gathered a layer of dust over time.
Near the entrance, an old man dozed in a reclining chair. He opened one eye when he saw Xu Zimo and his guard approach, gave them a glance, and lazily said:
“Pick whatever you want. One weapon per person. Just tell me when you leave.”
Then he turned over and went right back to sleep.
“What kind of attitude is that?” Zhang Zhongtian grumbled.
“It’s fine,” Xu Zimo said, shaking his head. He gave the old man a meaningful look, then continued inside.
He didn’t hesitate or search much. He headed straight to a corner of the room, where a wall was densely lined with weapons, blades, spears, staves, even rare and unusual types.
Amid the mass, one weapon in the bottom left corner caught his eye.
It was a slightly curved saber, about five feet long. Its edge looked extremely sharp, and the blade had a gentle arc. It weighed about 15 pounds in hand. The hilt was patterned with a cross-hatched grip, thick and heavy in the palm.
“This one,” Xu Zimo said, ignoring Zhang Zhongtian’s surprise, and walked with the saber to the old man at the entrance.
The old man, disturbed from his nap again, glanced at the saber with disinterest and muttered,