What was this power? This blade was connected to his bloodline. Did that mean he really had been slashed eighty-one times? Yet he had no wounds at all.
Lu Yin couldn't make sense of it. He stared at the blade in his palm as a chill rose from deep within him.
Perhaps he shouldn't have come. Anyone capable of unleashing such power against him had definitely seen through him. The Lost Race was no longer safe.
But he couldn't leave now.
Restless, Lu Yin gripped the blade and sat down, gazing at the moon as he took a deep breath.
Forget it. He would wait. If a powerhouse like that decided to attack him, there was no way he could escape.
He gave a bitter smile and looked at the blade in his hand again. He didn't put it in his Void Ring, but hung it around his neck instead. Perhaps one day, he could use it to slash someone else eighty-one times.
For the next while, Lu Yin stayed there, both to avoid Little Food Saint and the others and to see if he could meet the mysterious expert.
The man hadn't exposed him, but had slashed him eighty-one times and left him this little blade. Lu Yin had no idea what it meant.
At last, the Upper Three Festivals arrived.
The Upper Three Festivals were the Lost Race's grandest holiday, and the entire race celebrated the day.
Even on the floating islands, Lu Yin could feel the festive atmosphere.
There were many floating islands nearby. Everyone attending the Upper Three Festivals to exchange cards was on one of them, so it was easy to imagine how many people had come from the Lost Race.
The largest floating island in the very center was where the card exchange would