The man's body was riddled with holes by Luoman and Roxie, and it crashed to the ground under their bewildered gaze.
Looking at the corpse on the ground, Roxie asked uncertainly, "Is he dead like this?"
"Phew," Luoman gasped, exhausted, and took off his embroidered headscarf to wipe away the sweat, "I don't know. If he's not dead, we're finished."
"Then I think he's dead," Roxie said.
"I think so too," Luoman stuffed the headscarf into his collar and patted his bulging chest. "He said he was an angel and only gods could kill him. He also said that what we're holding is a divine spark, so we can kill him with the divine spark. He's so stupid!"
Roxie looked at the long sword in her hand. "But didn't he say it was a shattered divine spark and couldn't be used to inherit godhood? We aren't gods either, why can we kill him?"
"Doesn't a shattered divine spark become whole when put together?" Luoman looked back at the silver table. "What I'm curious about is why we could take it down, and why it broke into two halves."
Roxie said, "This belongs to Count Wesley. I'm afraid only he knows."
"That's right, Count Wesley!"
The two of them finally remembered Count Wesley, who had fainted on the ground, and quickly ran over and squatted down to check his breathing.
Luoman: "He's still breathing. He's alive."
"That's great!" Roxie asked him, "What do we do now? Do we carry him out?"
"We can't carry him, and there are such high stone steps outside," Luoman thought for a moment and said, "I'll stay here to watch him. You go out and call Troy."
"Okay," Roxie stood up, took two steps, then hesitated and turned back, raising the sword in her hand. "What about this sword? Should I take it with me or put it back?"
If this were anyone else's house, she would have taken it. But Count Wesley was someone Miss wanted to save, so she couldn't easily take things from his secret chamber.
"Let's put it back," she said to Luoman. "This sword is too hot to hold, and it might bring us disaster."
Luoman agreed. "Then let's put it back."
The two returned to the silver table, kicked away the man's corpse, and placed the sword back on it together.
"It's no use, this sword won't float up," Roxie said, staring at the sword on the table.
"Mine won't either. They won't come together," Luoman said with a gloomy face. "Did we break his things?"
"We didn't do it on purpose; he forced us to," Roxie kicked the corpse on the ground again. "When Count Wesley wakes up, we'll say he did it all."
Luoman: "That's the only way."
"Okay, I'm going to call Troy. You watch this corpse and be careful he doesn't come back to life," Roxie instructed.
"I know," Luoman replied.
Roxie left the secret chamber. As her footsteps faded, the underground became even more silent and eerie.
Luoman looked at the two swords leaning on the silver table. He wanted to straighten them, but when he reached out to grasp the hilt, he discovered that he couldn't move the sword emitting black mist at all.
Even with all his strength, the sword wouldn't budge. But when he picked up the sword he had just held, he lifted it effortlessly.
Luoman frowned. Why could he only lift one half?
He turned around, holding the sword, and walked towards the corpse on the ground. He examined the corpse's arm and then swung his sword down.
"Swish—"
The corpse on the ground suddenly opened its eyes, its dilated pupils turning towards him.
Luoman was so frightened his heart almost leaped out of his throat. "You were faking death!"
The corpse suddenly opened its mouth, and a mechanical voice came from its throat.
"Saved a thousand, killed one, ten thousand died because of me, a hundred were born because of me, and tens of thousands will die because of my death."
Luoman pointed the tip of the sword at its throat. "So, we shouldn't have killed you?"
The corpse no longer replied.
Luoman, filled with suspicion and uncertainty, squatted down after a long while and placed his finger below the corpse's nose.
No breath. He had been dead for a long time, but who had been speaking just now?
Luoman slowly shifted his gaze to the sword in his hand. Could it be?
The divine spark of the Goddess of Justice, the Blade of Judgment?
"Are you the one speaking?" he couldn't help but ask.
The sword didn't react, lying quietly in his hand.
"Is he still not dead?"
"You want to remind me that killing him has serious consequences, so I shouldn't kill him, right?"
"But if I don't kill him, what if he escapes?"
After asking the last question, the sword suddenly emitted a golden light. The light wove into a transparent cage in the air, covering the corpse, and then vanished in an instant.
Luoman heard a voice in his mind.
The scales of good and evil have tipped. This is the judgment of justice.
...