It was Baize who had spoken. Amidst the others' puzzled gazes, he grabbed Mu Yao's long sword.
The sword Mu Yao used was forged from millennium-old meteoric iron; it could slice a hair blown across its edge and was exceptionally sharp.
Crimson blood slid down his pale palm, but he seemed to feel no pain as he pressed his hand against the heavy gates.
Chapter 128