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Only when his clothes had absorbed a touch of moisture did Wang Anfeng come back to his senses. Beside him, the Green-Maned Horse waited quietly, with its mane disheveled like untamed hair and its eyes shimmering with a dragon-serpent's golden vertical pupils, revealing its extraordinary nature. Wang Anfeng patted the horse's back and sighed,
"Now, you will have to follow me..."
"And rest assured, I will not treat you poorly."
The horse gently shifted its body, and as Wang Anfeng groomed its mane, his palm slid to the side of the saddle, encountering a hard object. With a slight start, he reached back and drew out a dagger. It had a sturdy leather sheath, with a blade as cold as frost, thin yet resilient.
The hilt was carved with intricate patterns, not only decorative but also offering a secure grip, evidencing the dagger-maker's meticulous care. In small, fine yet clear script, there was an inscription, which Wang Anfeng read under the moonlight,
