"Open!"
Yang Qing held up the little wooden box and uttered just one word. The box, which had not shown the slightest seam, suddenly shuddered. Then, like a river clam opening its shell, it slowly revealed a narrow crack.
As the crack opened, a flash of light appeared. A tiny black shadow shot out through the gap, trying to flee to who knew where.
The instant the black shadow appeared, Yang Qing's expression sharpened.
Though he had yet to see what it was, anything sealed inside this box could hardly be ordinary.
And so, Yang Qing instinctively reached out and snatched at the black shadow.
With that grab, he felt something exceedingly slippery land in his palm.
Had he not exerted a little strength, the thing would probably have escaped.
But after he tightened his grip, a sharp pain shot through his palm, as though something pointed had pierced straight through it.
When he lowered his head for a closer look, he discovered that a bloody hole had somehow been punched through his palm. Blood flowed steadily from it.
Yet his palm held nothing.
Where had that thing gone?
Seeing his empty palm, Yang Qing was startled.
He clearly hadn't loosened his grip. Why had it vanished?
Yang Qing looked down more closely and found that the little hole had already begun to stop bleeding. A small scar had appeared on his formerly smooth palm.
The more he looked at the scar, the more it resembled a coiled length of whip.
When not another drop of blood flowed from Yang Qing's palm, the now-empty wooden box slipped from his hand, struck the ground, and immediately crumbled into ash.
Deputy General Black Tortoise watched Yang Qing open the wooden box, then watched it weather away into ash. For a moment, a