Bai Fengyin glanced indifferently at the small wound on his palm and sneered contemptuously.
Such a minor scar, even if it were a severed limb, as long as the Primordial Spirit remains intact, is only a matter of time before the body is restored.
With a thought, he casually circulated his Spiritual Power to heal the wound, but his expression suddenly changed slightly.
The tiny wound did not heal; instead, more blood seeped out.
Bai Fengyin frowned, and his Spiritual Power surged again to stop the bleeding, but it was all in vain.
"What's going on?" A glint of cold light flashed in his eyes as he snatched the rusty Broken Sword from Zhou Qing's hand, scrutinizing it, then sternly questioned, "Is the sword poisoned?"
Zhou Qing slowly shook his head, "It's not poison."
The corner of his mouth lifted in a meaningful arc, "It's a curse. With your cultivation, you should be able to discern whether there's any poison on it."
