The once-bustling Qiu Ci Street had lost all vitality. The only lingering presence was the distant wind carrying the scent of ash, whipping up red and green silk scarves that tumbled across the ground. The singers and dancers had long vanished without a trace.
War was as cruel as a biting cold wind. Wherever it swept, tree leaves fell from branches, grasslands withered to brown, and the vast expanse of the land became desolate and barren.
Chen Ji gripped the Whale Blade tightly, his gaze vigilant as he surveyed his surroundings, ears attuned to the faintest disturbances on the street.
Qi Zhenzhuo quickened his steps, sidling up to Chen Ji and whispering, "Chen Ji, in the past, it was my dog eyes looking down on you, my petty-minded thoughts at work. I hope you can be magnanimous and not hold it against me."
Chen Ji gave him a surprised glance but remained silent.
Qi Zhenzhuo brazenly continued, "Chen Ji, can you teach me how to fight?"
Chen Ji frowned. "No."
