Russell furrowed his brows deeply and let out a sigh.
Looking at this man, who seemed as despondent and powerless as an office drone who had lost hope, Russell could only feel disappointment.
It was like throwing a punch into cotton... His hatred and anger were amassed in his fist, yet he could not unleash it.
Perhaps names can be chosen wrongly, but nicknames never miss the mark...
"Indeed, it's no wonder you're 'Qiao'."
Russell murmured softly to himself.
He could feel from his words that "Qiao's" heart was void.
It was a narrow space that existed solely to accommodate a sword. Should the matching sword break, the scabbard would lose all its value as well.
Or to put it another way...
The "scabbard" itself was a kind of "container."
