Zong Shou squinted his eyes, sharp as an eagle, and clearly saw his ironwood-made flying knife slightly deviate to the left.
Since the day they had stopped to rest and repair, three more days had passed and there had been no breaks since.
Yiin Yang and Chuxue still occasionally left the carriage, their bodies exuding an aura of slaughter. Meanwhile, Zong Shou continued to do nothing and stayed inside the carriage.
Besides practicing his swordsmanship and movement techniques every day, and gathering spiritual energy from all directions using the Guiding Skill to strengthen his physique, he had added another task—practicing with these Black Iron Wood flying knives.
Whenever his body felt fatigued, Zong Shou would always stand in front of the window, take any object nearby as a target, and shoot out the flying knife.
