Cradling the heavy Yuxiao Sword in his arms, Baili An was just about to explain that he truly didn't need this sword for protection.
As the words reached his lips, a fierce wind rose outside the cave, gust after gust, pressing down the wild grass that sprouted along the cave's edge.
Accompanied by the wild wind was a mixture of cold rain, the green scent of grass, which slowly permeated and brought with it a faint but unmistakable scent of blood.
This blood scent was particularly cold and intense, as if something dead had been lying in ambush outside the cave entrance for a long time.
Baili An's gaze subtly changed as he smoothly returned the sword to its place without a trace of emotion.
Wen Hanwei took the Yuxiao Sword and exchanged a look with Ye Lian, their eyes as deep and cold as the night, both brimming with intense vigilance.
The once peaceful air suddenly turned heavy.
