After the division of spoils, no, the division of swords had concluded, Zhexiu no longer had any energy or interest in chatting with them, once again closing his eyes. Chen Changsheng once again took his pulse, confirming that his injuries were taking a turn for the better. He relaxed a tiny bit, then realized that there seemed to be a new problem in the meridians. The tempo of the Tide Rush of Blood seemed to be much slower than before. Was this an omen that Zhexiu's true essence was on the verge of exhaustion? Chen Changsheng did not dare to dwell on this possibility. He dimmed the lantern, returned the mountain of swords to his sheath, then indicated that Tang Thirty-Six and Xuanyuan Po should follow him out of the library.
"No problems, right?" Tang Thirty-Six asked.
Chen Changsheng did not directly answer the question, instead asking, "Zhou Tong, just what sort of person is he?"
