Hiding the pills, Fan Xian twitched his nose. For some reason, his mind had started racing, and the powerful zhenqi in his body had begun to flow quickly through his vast meridians. All of his pores seemed to open up, greedily absorbing all of the energy that they could.
The faint smell of ephedra leaves had excited him.
He took the Tiger Guard longsword from the table. It had been modified beyond recognition. He felt its weight in his hand, and using a cloth band, he carefully fastened it to his back, making sure that it was at a convenient angle for when he might need to draw it. As for the slender black dagger he carried strapped to his leg, after all these years it seemed like it had become a part of his body, and it required no further attention. With a creak, the door was pushed open. Wang Qinian walked in, bowed to Fan Xian, and said something in his ear.
Fan Xian nodded, glanced over the leftover tools on the table, and indicated that he had begun.
