Old Master Wei Cang had practically sprinted to the blacksmith's shop. It was hard to imagine that he was a man of seventy or eighty.
Upon arriving at the blacksmith's shop, the old man spotted the two crescent-moon-shaped blades being displayed at a glance.
The blades were black overall, yet the streak of red along their edges blended in with natural, seamless harmony.
They looked exactly like the last streak of sunset at the horizon before the long night descended, their allure beyond description.
"Th-these two blades... do they have names?" Old Master Wei's voice trembled. He could scarcely believe what he was seeing.
Li Qing smiled, then handed the two long blades over as he explained, "I have not failed your expectations, Old Wei. Their name is Lingering Fire. What do you think?"
Taking the twin blades, Lingering Fire, and feeling their texture against his palms, Old Master Wei Cang was instantly moved to tears.
"Wonderful! The name is wonderful, and the blades are even better!"
"Our ancestors' long-cherished wish has finally been fulfilled in my generation."
As the words fell, Wei Cang picked up the two blades and began to wield them. His blade technique was exquisite, and two fiery-red arcs of blade light danced through the air.
The Wei family's founding patriarch had been a grandmaster. Even at his death, he had never obtained an unparalleled divine weapon of his own. It had been an immense regret.
Now that Lingering Fire had emerged, that regret had finally been remedied in his generation.
It was clear that Old Master Wei Cang adored the two blades, to the point where he could barely bear to put them down.
Even Wei Qingqing, who came rushing over afterward, panting for breath, found it hard to ask her grandfather to let her