Moonlight spilled over the broken stelae of Dragon-Lock Valley as Ye Fan gazed at the gradually fading golden light, the lingering warmth of the Jiuxiao Huanpei still clinging to his fingertips. Liu Er was still gesturing at the empty air with his iron ruler, which struck the void with a crisp, fragmented sound. "Strange! Just a moment ago, that light was blinding—how is there not even a scorch mark?"
"Uncle Liu," Ye Fan reached out and pressed down on the man's trembling wrist, feeling the rapid, nervous throb of his pulse beneath his palm. "The assassins have already retreated." He cocked his head to listen for any movement in the valley; the night wind swept past his ears carrying blades of grass, but there was no longer the slightest sound of friction from metal—the footsteps of those men in black had been swallowed completely by the mountain wind.
Only then did Liu Er snap back to his senses, dropping his iron ruler with a clatter. "Young Master Ye, just now... that... that Lesser World..." His throat felt tight as he stared at the jade pendant at Ye Fan's waist. "Could this treasure of yours be something used by immortals in the heavens?"
Chapter 45