“Fellow Daoist Han, you must be joking,” said Meng Hao, somewhat impolitely. “This cauldron must have been cast innumerable years ago. It’s aura is beyond ordinary. I don’t think I can even touch that crack.”
“Fellow Daoist Meng, you misunderstand,” she said hastily. “Of course I’m aware that this cauldron is not something people with Cultivation bases like ours can touch. I have a family heirloom treasure that can eradicate the crack. However, it must be guided by Spiritual Sense. Doing so will cause the crack to be healed.” As she spoke, she slapped her bag of holding to produce a small fan the size of a palm. It only had three feathers, each of which was covered with magical symbols.