The Night Pearl sat at Chen Changsheng's feet, against the wall. Its light rose from below, causing the dagger inserted into the wall to cast an extremely long shadow that appeared like a black beam on the roof.
Inch by inch, the dagger was slowly stabbed into the wall, gradually being engulfed. Chen Changsheng tightly grasped the hilt, his eyes focused on the intersection of wall and dagger, his breath growing more hurried and his expression more tense.
His mind was focused on the dagger as if he was venturing forward on some dark path without a lantern and was unaware of what he might encounter. This sort of complete unawareness had a hint of expectation, but consisted mostly of unease.
