The moment Wang Lin's right hand grasped the sword, the killing intent in his eyes completely vanished. His eyes, once sharp, now mirrored calm waters.
As if his killing intent toward Master Void had been fully absorbed by the sword in his grip, his gaze, devoid of any killing intent, was infinitely more terrifying than the monstrous killing intent before.
Wang Lin vaguely felt that the iron sword possessed its own spirit. At this moment, the spirit within the sword seemed to be awakening from a long slumber, ready to unleash its destructive force.
The beautiful village woman, still fixated on Wang Lin, frowned as he drew the sword from its sheath, clearly unfamiliar with the item. However, the moment Wang Lin's eyes became tranquil, her eyes widened in disbelief, recalling a memory.
The black-robed man also observed the sword sheath in Wang Lin's hand, his pupils constricting.