Of course, they could even less afford to sell them, distribute them, or throw them into the Prefectural Treasury like walking straight into a net.
The only option was to turn iron into iron.
To throw them all into the Smelting Furnace, where they would be reborn through Fireflow Flying Smoke, leaving no trace that they had ever existed.
Old Ding might still remember the customer who had melted down over a hundred blades and swords in one go.
But would a witness like that be any use?
There was not the slightest impatience on Li Piaoqing's face. She let Old Ding sleep soundly in his house and sat down in the canopy, relaxing her body, as though the urgent tone of the message meant nothing.
She let the flowing rain gradually soak her clothes, keeping only the space between her palm and the sword hilt dry as she waited patiently.
It really did not take long.
Only a quarter of an hour later.
A man's figure burst through the curtain of rain, appearing suddenly from the dark night, so fast, so urgent. Blood marked his body; he was barefoot and wore only a thin garment, carrying a gleaming, unsheathed sword behind his arm.
His face was stern and imposing. It was Zhao Fu.
He swept straight into the air above the little courtyard without slowing in the slightest.
Li Piaoqing discarded her sheath and drew her sword.
Like a sleeping sparrow startled from a tree, the green-clad girl burst out through the leaves, her brilliant emerald sword light drawing a long, straight line.
[Treading Water, Plucking Scales]
Zhao Fu abruptly twisted at the waist in midair, turning to slash out a powerful streak of sword light that split the wind and rain.
The gap in True Qi between fifth