"Drip."
Stagnant, foul-smelling water droplets dripped from above, splashing in the ground mixed with feces and muddy soil, raising sporadic splashes.
The narrow stone walls refracted a faintly cold and dark light, occasionally catching the slight rise and fall of the half-exposed sword blade as it moved, the iron-gray sharp glint fleeting.
The Beheading Longsword, already mastered and the main weapon, was securely tied behind his back.
In his hand was the Wooden Sword , slightly less sharp but more suited to the current scene.
His pitch-black eyes reflected the pus-green of the fungus growing in the stone wall crevices.
His eyes stared intently into the dim depths of the passageway ahead, his attention highly concentrated, wary of any suspicious movements.
Xia Nan held the Arm Shield with his left hand in front of him, while the palm of his right hand was tightly pressed against the sword hilt, with the sword tip angled downward.
