[When are you leaving, host?] It was a whisper, but it cut through the silence like a blade.
"Leaving?" Zhang Wei muttered, his voice barely audible as he chuckled to himself. "Not happening today." His words were a defiant proclamation, a challenge to fate itself.
His hands began to glow with an eerie white light, and in an instant, a double-edged axe materialized within his grasp.
The air seemed to hold its silence as Zhang Wei's eyes fixated on the Celestial Reaver.
He inspected it with the meticulousness of an artist examining a masterpiece.
The axe, in stark black, possessed a blade surface that shimmered under the soft caress of moonlight.
Yet, a strange transformation was afoot; crimson veins bulged and pulsed on the axe's handle, as if it hungered for the touch of his skin, drawing power from his very being.
!!
