Zhan Ri Fei smiled—an incredible feat given the circumstances. “And aren’t you afraid that if you do, the debt of gratitude I owe you will never be repaid?”
Huo Xiao Di let out a snort of laughter. “If you hadn’t mentioned it, I might have forgotten. Don’t worry—after I went through so much effort to make someone like you, who hates owing favors, finally owe me one, how could I let you die so easily?”
As he spoke, his right hand raised the Yin Yang An.
Without a sound, the black blade sliced through Zhan Ri Fei’s clothing and then the wound on his back.
The wound wasn’t deep, but oddly, the blood began to flow very slowly. Could the black sword truly possess some strange, magical power?
Even as the sharp blade pierced his flesh, causing pain that would have been unbearable for most, Zhan Ri Fei didn’t make a single sound.
Huo Xiao Di pressed around the wound with one hand, using the Yin Yang An to part the torn flesh, but no foreign object was visible inside.
However, his hand soon became stained with blood. The blood that flowed out felt strangely cold.
Huo Xiao Di’s pupils suddenly contracted. His heart began to pound furiously, and he could hear his own breathing, which had grown heavier and more labored.
Zhan Ri Fei noticed that the hand pressing on his shoulder was trembling slightly. Then, a warm drop of liquid fell onto his neck.
Opening his eyes and turning his head, he found Huo Xiao Di’s large, dark eyes, shiny and moist, and his bright white rabbit-like teeth almost right in front of his face.
Zhan Ri Fei looked at him curiously, his pain and exhaustion making it difficult to process what he was seeing. Through the haze, he seemed to notice a glistening layer of moisture in those big eyes.
“Do you people from Ling Long Manor cry this easily?”
Huo Xiao Di gritted his teeth and said nothing. It seemed he had no intention of answering Zhan Ri Fei’s question.
The Yin Yang An in Huo Xiao Di’s hand suddenly began to heat up for some unknown reason, as if it were seeking something, struggling to break free from his grip.
A faint “clang” echoed—a sound so soft it was almost imperceptible. The extraordinary weapon had seemingly struck something.
Moments later, Huo Xiao Di saw it: a small sliver of silver, almost as if it had suddenly materialized. Embedded in the flesh of Zhan Ri Fei’s wound, it had now adhered to the Yin Yang An as though drawn out by the blade.
The black blade of the sword now seemed to sprout an eye—a silver eye! For a moment, it almost appeared to blink at him.
The sliver of silver had been extracted and placed on the ground, still emanating an unsettling, malevolent glow.
Huo Xiao Di felt the Yin Yang An tremble in his hand once more. It was as if the silver fragment exerted a sinister pull, calling to the mysterious black weapon in his grip.
“What is this thing?”
Zhan Ri Fei’s complexion had improved significantly, and his gaze had regained its calm.
“What you’re looking at is a fragment of Han Shui Palace’s most legendary weapon in the past century. It has a peculiar name—‘Chang Xiang Si’.”
Huo Xiao Di scrutinized the fragment from different angles. “I don’t see anything special about it.”
Zhan Ri Fei explained, “The uniqueness of Chang Xiang Si lies in how it was forged. It’s made from celestial silkworm threads mixed with black iron extracted from the depths beneath Han Shui Palace’s cold lake. When wielded, it moves like a shadow yet remains invisible. If paired with Han Shui Palace’s ‘Finger-Coiling Grace’ technique, it gives the wielder an overwhelming advantage, leaving opponents defenseless.”
Huo Xiao Di asked, “If it’s mixed with black iron, why doesn’t it have even a trace of black?”
Zhan Ri Fei replied, “This black iron is unlike ordinary kinds. It comes from unique stones found beneath Han Shui Palace’s cold lake. While submerged, it appears black, but once removed from the lake, it immediately loses its color.”
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