Mu Qian threw the remaining half of the sword in his hand to the ground, and the blood from his arm, due to his movement, dripped onto the back of his hand, staining his entire palm red within moments. He said coldly, "He was your master, never mine."
Ding Chenmo picked up the broken half of the sword, carefully examined the traces at the break, and discovered that the middle part was just ordinary iron, not the mythical Evil Slayer Sword that could slice through iron like mud and vanquish evil demons. It was worlds apart from the one in his hand.
Ding Chenmo was distracted for only a moment, but Mu Qian's ghostly figure had already rushed upstairs, and in the blink of an eye, he appeared in the second-floor corridor. He, meanwhile, was entangled by several yin spirits downstairs. He raised his Evil Slayer Sword to stab them and shouted loudly, "Even if the master favored one over the other, he was still the master who raised you for many years; why would you want to kill him?"
