The old scholar had already turned into ashes. Liu Shisui bowed to his ashes a few times, and so did Xiao He.
Liu Shisui picked up the fan in the ashes and fastened it into his waist, in the meantime looking at the small sword in the sky.
The small sword flew back to his front, its tip slightly drooping, seemingly expressing its remorse and apology; it was unknown whether the sword felt that it didn't do enough to help out.
Liu Shisui said nothing, motioning for Xiao He to get on his back.
Xiao He shook her head in disagreement, thinking that he was so badly wounded that it would be hard for him to make the descent from such a steep cliff with her on his back.
The small sword landed on Liu Shisui's hand and changed back to a bracelet on his wrist.
Liu Shisui understood what the sword meant, as he heaved Xiao He on his back.