The black iron coffin hung high in midair, suspended as if defying gravity.
At first, Chu Weiyang's eyes only glanced briefly at the row of ancient seal script characters inscribed on the coffin’s lid — the words “Taiyin Shape-Refining Mysterious Coffin” — and then he didn’t linger any longer.
Indeed, those characters had been etched by a sage from long ago when this coffin was forged.
Yet Chu Weiyang could also tell that this black coffin had been repeatedly borrowed and used by cultivators of the Huanghua Sect for their practice.
The disciples there truly understood the rare treasure that this Taiyin Shape-Refining Coffin represented, and so, for a very long time, they painstakingly nurtured and refined it with precious spiritual materials and essence.
Since practicality was paramount, even the marks of time’s erosion that had once been buried deep underground were erased through repeated nurturing.
The coffin was bright and polished, without a trace of the wear and tear from passing years.
Naturally, during this deliberate refining, the subtle divine aura left behind by the ancient sage in those seal characters also dissipated with the traces of age that had been erased.
But that was not really a regret.