The moment the blood dripped into the Abyss Sword, it was swallowed up by the cracks in the sword's body, and the power of the priest's bloodline was felt, and the broken parts of the sword body also began to heal, and the speed was very slow like a snail, which formed a great contrast with the speed of the blood dripping.

Time was sometimes fast, sometimes slow, until Ying Qing's face was pale as if the brush had no ink, he stopped a little reluctantly, and when he looked at the Abyss Sword in front of him, he finally had a little luster that belonged to it.

......

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