Wang Jian's Wicked Scheme

The silence in the banquet hall was thick with awe and disbelief. The Crimson Dawn, resting on Wang Jian's palm, radiated an almost palpable power, a pressure that seemed to weigh down on every soul present. The sheer contrast between this blade and Feng Xuan's Heart of the Firestorm was stark, like comparing a flickering candle to the blazing sun.

Wang Jian, seemingly oblivious to the stunned silence he had created, began to speak, his voice calm and measured. "This," he announced, his gaze sweeping over the assembled guests, "is the Crimson Dawn. Forged from the heart of a dying star, quenched in the blood of a celestial dragon, and tempered by the breath of a primordial phoenix, it is a blade of immense power and profound history."