Jiang Feng whipped scorching mist into his face as the dragon's dark-gold pupils rapidly filled his vision.
Lu Mingfei felt the blood throughout his body boil, adrenaline surging and crushing, evaporating every fear and stray thought, leaving behind only a nearly crazed exhilaration.
"Lao Tang—" he murmured, as though making a final farewell. "You have your ride, and I have my gear—this is fair enough."
He yanked the ancient box from his back with one hand and pulled hard—nothing happened!
In his panic, his fingers frantically searched across the surface of the box until they finally found an extremely well-hidden groove. He hooked his fingertips into it and exerted force. A concealed metal plate sprang open with a click!
"Clang—"
A clear, lingering ring sounded out, like the first breath of an Ancient Dragon waking from slumber. Intricate components, as precise as a clockwork mechanism, slid out from within the box and gracefully unfolded in a fan shape. Seven chilling flashes of light abruptly ignited, illuminating Lu Mingfei's profile.
Zhanmadao, Eight-Faced Han Sword, Tang Dao, Katana, Claymore, Yatagan, Wakizashi.
The seven blades and swords came in wildly differing forms, from heavy weapons built for overwhelming force, to curved blades with strange arcs, to ancient and elegant straight edges, and finally icy short blades. They encompassed the finest cold weapons of both East and West.
This set did not resemble something forged two thousand years ago at all. The dark-gold gleam flowing along their edges, the alchemical patterns on their bodies that seemed to breathe like living things, and the complex, exquisite mechanical structure carrying them—all of it proclaimed the superb craftsmanship behind their creation.
"Wait—which one is Wrath?" Lu Mingfei's mind went blank. "That Little Devil—he couldn't have made it clearer?"
There was no time to hesitate!
Faced with that