A Staggering Windfall

"Creak—"

The door opened. Acrid smoke and dust drifted out as bright light spilled through the widening gap.

Xia Lun flicked his wrist, flourishing the Short Sword. Iron filings slid off its blade as he shifted from a reverse grip to a forward grip.

Warm light fell across the cold gray blade, which reflected his dark eyes and the room beyond.

The room was small enough to take in at a glance. A rotten, collapsed bed, a table reduced to splinters, and fallen beams occupied most of it. Debris clogged the fireplace flue.

"Just as I thought. Nothing here," the Gunner muttered. "It's an empty house. Got my hopes up for nothing."

Xia Lun did not answer. He stepped into the cluttered room and looked around.

If the room were truly empty, the original survivors of Camp No. 2 would never have sealed it off. Something had to be hidden here.

Rotten wood and broken furniture filled the room, leaving nowhere clear to step. Damp timber creaked under Xia Lun's feet with every stride.

He stopped before the debris-filled fireplace and studied it for a full ten seconds. Then, without warning, he swung his sword and slashed straight through the exposed ceramic flue.

Crash!

The ceramic chimney shattered. With nothing to support it, the debris inside the flue fell to the floor.

Xia Lun frowned slightly.

What was going on? Was there really nothing in the flue?

"Whew."

Outside, the Gunner leaned against the wall with his arms crossed.

Watching Xia Lun tear apart the fireplace, he could not fathom what Xia Lun was doing.

He wanted to say something, but after all the remarkable things Xia Lun had done, he decided to keep quiet and watch.

Perhaps Lord Xia Lun was performing a mystical Ritual. As he thought this,