Drawing the Sword (First Update!)

A sacred artifact?

Xia Lun's gaze darkened slightly as he looked at the wooden staff clutched tightly in the old man's hand.

His instincts told him that the cracked wooden staff was probably the so-called sacred artifact.

He had seen that staff before, when he used Curse Counterstrike to retaliate against the monster. Back then, however, it had been held not by the old man, but by a shrewd-looking middle-aged man with a goatee.

At that thought, he suddenly recalled what White Line had told him through his earpiece. She had said she was fighting alongside members of the "Farseers' Club" against a terrifying evil entity.

That would make this old man a member of the Farseers' Club.

Xia Lun weighed his options for a moment, then looked down and asked, "Farseers' Club?"

The old man visibly froze at Xia Lun's voice. He struggled to lift his wrinkled eyelids, widening his ruptured, pus-filled eyes.

The instant he saw Xia Lun, shock appeared on his face. His gray lips moved laboriously, squeezing a name through the gaps in his rotten teeth. "Xia... Xia Lun?!"

"You're Curse Death, aren't you?" Xia Lun looked down at the old man writhing feebly on the ground.

"I'm 'Golden Sprout,'" the old man corrected him.

Xia Lun had heard that name from White Line. Both Golden Sprout and Curse Death were members of the Farseers' Club, and according to her information, Golden Sprout should also have been at the Blind Believer rank.

Golden Sprout laboriously turned his ruptured eyes. When he saw the short sword in Xia Lun's hand, a flicker of understanding suddenly crossed his face. "I see. You were the one who made that slash. Truly... cough, cough, cough."

Golden Sprout suddenly began coughing violently. But instead of frothy blood, he spat out countless