Andulan elder flattened his aged turtle lips, smiled proudly, picked up the Sword in the Bamboo Flute from the ground—the bloodstains on the triangular sword blade had already dried, turning a dark purple color. The elder grasped the arm of the beauty, brushed aside her sleeve, reversed the hilt, and gently slid the tip across the ivory, silky skin, creating a shallow cut. It was possible to clearly see the red tissues deep under the surface of the cut, but no fresh blood of any color seeped from the wound.
All eyes were fixated on the beauty's face in that instant, not blinking at all. Her expression remained inscrutable as ever, marked with implications you could never fully decipher; her face retained its unchanging beauty, showing not the slightest hint of pain.
This discovery slightly disheartened everyone, for although they had anticipated this result, they still felt an unexplainable sense of emptiness engulfing their hearts—especially Lord Liu.
