"It thought I was playing with it—I often did—but I found the blood spraying from my throat sounded rather pleasant."
"That year when I was twelve, that dagger, too, I melted into scrap metal, and you punished me for it..."
"But you knew, Master."
He repeated once more, as the man in the green robe slid his palm under the chin of the elder, lifting his face to meet his own, and smiled:
"My things, even if destroyed, I won't give to others."
"I'd rather destroy them."
"Bring it up..."
In the midst of the mist, a "Danfeng Valley" assassin, masked, swiftly approached, holding a sandalwood box the size of a human head, executed qinggong, and landed beside the man in the green robe, lifting the box in offering.
The elder struggled even more violently.
The man in the green robe took the box, and the Danfeng Valley assassin stepped back to stand behind him.
The man said indifferently:
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