Chapter 52: Dragon Roar

Qi Family's inner treasury.

Before him lay a huge pile of miscellaneous items.

"So much scrap copper and iron?"

Seeing the swords and blades piled up like a mountain before him, Daoist Tianxu was also somewhat startled.

In the storeroom, many swords and blades stood haphazardly on the ground; at a glance, their quantity formed a small hill.

Zhang Jian casually waved his hand, and an illusory azure talisman appeared in his palm; the Wind Moving Technique unfolded, a layer of pure wind swept over, and instantly layers of dust were carried away by the airflow.

He wore a cyan silk robe, his black hair simply bound with a hairpin, his hair hanging over his shoulders, wide sleeves, and he strode ahead into the storeroom.

Qi Yi glanced at Old Daoist Tianxu behind him, shook his head, and said, "You old fool, what do you know? This is my Qi Family's collection of hundreds of years, containing many genuine articles; only a mix of real and fake can confuse people's ears!"

Daoist Tianxu shook his head and said, "You illustrious clans are just not straightforward at all!"

Qi Yi ignored Daoist Tianxu's muttering; as he walked, he first came to the Ruthless Center, where he found an ancient sword with a purple hilt, lifted it slightly, and saw a flash of bright sword light; the blade resembled a pool of autumn water.

He held it with both hands, glanced at it affectionately, then casually walked to Zhang Jian's side.

"Brother Jian, this is a famous sword from a hundred years ago in the martial world, named Ziyin; it was the personal sword of the grandmaster Longyin True Person, who wielded it to dominate the southern martial world for sixty years, and with it drank the blood of thousands of experts from both the righteous and wicked paths—truly a fearsome reputation!"

Upon hearing this, Zhang Jian's eyes shifted; he also raised both hands to take the ancient sword, casually swung it, and instantly his vision brightened—his keen divine sense seemed to hear the wind howling in the air, being cleanly sliced, and within lay a thick killing intent that seemed to have vengeful spirits coiling around the blade's tip.

This long sword has indeed taken the lives of many martial artists.

The blade's strength is also far greater than that of an ordinary long sword.

Within the storeroom, there are probably only a few weapons that can compare to this sword.

Zhang Jian was about to agree, but his divine sense unconsciously swept the storeroom; after a moment his face twitched slightly, and he couldn't help but prick up his ears to listen.

"Buzz—"

Suddenly he heard a strange hissing sound near his ear.

This was not something his divine sense 'heard'.

Rather, it was the Myriad Worlds Spirit Sense Ball that heard it; he heard a childish voice, like an infant's babbling.

Although the language was chaotic and unstructured, it was indeed a 'voice'!

Like a seed breaking through soil.

Zhang Jian's face showed astonishment.

This was the first time he had encountered such a thing; gripping the Ziyin longsword in his hand, his steps followed the sound slowly, and he eventually arrived before a strange longsword.

It was an ancient sword slanted into the ground, once extremely ornate and dignified.

To describe a sword as ornate and dignified is already unusual.

But now it is covered in rust patches, its blade mottled with dark, blood‑colored spots.

Setting aside the Ziyin sword in his hand, Zhang Jian casually drew the rust‑covered ancient sword; as he pulled it out, he noticed the dragon pearl in his sleeve emitting a scorching sensation, as if resonating with the sword in his hand.

The sound coming from within that rust‑covered longsword grew a little louder.

It was still a faint rustle, but clearly more active.

"Could this be spirituality?"

Zhang Jian's eyes glimmered slightly.

All things have spirit; only with spirituality can they speak.

No matter what, a spiritual object is far superior to a lifeless one.

Seeing Zhang Jian seeming to like this rusty sword in his hand, Qi Yi laughed and couldn't help but praise:

"Brother Jian has good eyes; this sword is also one of the few precious blades in the storehouse!"

"This is the Dragon Roar Sword!"

Qi Yi felt a sense of astonishment.

Those heretical daoists, the genuine ones, and other body‑tempering martial artists differ from internal cultivators; Zhang Jian, clearly having no expertise in weapon appraisal, could nevertheless at a glance leap to the most precious ancient sword in this treasury.

"Just this broken scrap counts as a precious sword?"

Daoist Tianxu pointed at the rust‑covered longsword and couldn't help but chuckle.

He had long noticed Zhang Jian's movements, but with his divine sense scan he detected nothing unusual.

Qi Yi glanced at Old Daoist Tianxu, shook his head, and said, "You old fool, you don't know value!"

"This sword is called the Dragon Roar Sword; it is said to have been the personal blade of the Min King a thousand years ago, reputedly unsurpassably sharp, having once drunk dragon's blood—have you heard the legend of the Min King slaying a dragon? It is said the Min King once defeated a flood dragon, subduing it in the White Water River, thereby creating the ten thousand qing of fertile fields surrounding the White Water River!"

"This can truly be called a dragon‑slaying sword!"

Hearing this, a strange flicker crossed Daoist Tianxu's eyes, and then he pointed at Qi Yi and laughed.

"Old Master Qi, you really like to boast!"

"You also believe such outlandish folk tales? A flood dragon is what kind of monstrous entity, almost certainly a natural spirit; though the Min King holds the rank of prince‑candidate, he is ultimately just a mortal—what virtue or ability does he have to harm a flood dragon, that water‑borne spirit?"

"Nonsense? This is pure nonsense!"

Old Daoist Tianxu shook his head; he simply did not believe it.

A flood dragon, that water‑borne spirit, is too terrifying; it can easily stir up heavenly disasters—how could mortal strength lightly wound it?

Zhang Jian listened, yet felt thoughtful; he had indeed just sensed the dragon pearl in his sleeve stirring.

He casually asked, "Then why has this sword become like this?"

Qi Yi, upon hearing this, sighed: "This sword has been passed down in my Qi Family through generations; I don't know why it became like this, but it has been this way since long ago. If it weren't still sharp, even our Qi Family ancestors would have doubted whether we had obtained a fake sword!"

Upon hearing this, Zhang Jian's eyes shifted; he then put the Dragon Roar Sword back where it was.

"Since it is a heirloom from my maternal grandfather, I ought not to take it!"

Qi Yi, hearing this, looked at Zhang Jian and laughed: "Brother Jian, you needn't be so scrupulous; these are rules from ages ago—just take it yourself!"

After a brief pause, he laughed heartily: "Moreover, Brother Jian is not an outsider! It doesn't violate any rule!"

"This..."

Zhang Jian hesitated for a moment, then clasped his fists and said:

"Such a grandson thanks the maternal grandfather for gifting the sword!"

Zhang Jian's eyes lit up a little; he was indeed quite curious about this sword.

Especially since it still possesses spirituality, an ancient sword.

Having taken the ancient sword before him, mottled with rust, Zhang Jian's eyes showed a hint of affection.

And while Zhang Jian was selecting the long sword in his hand, outside the Qi household, the dragon girl's expression was gloomy; she was somewhat depressed.

She had already been lingering around the Qi mansion for over a month, yet she had not sensed that the person who possessed the dragon pearl had left the Qi mansion.

She had indeed taken the initiative to act; for this, she even personally went out to the field.

But it was of little use.

"So cunning?"

The dragon girl sensed that it was somewhat troublesome.