Chu Zhiyuan first picked up a Flying Knife.
The knife, as thin as a cicada's wing, seemed dull without an edge, neither the tip nor the blade was sharp to the touch.
He thought this shouldn't be the case.
Cheng Tianfeng wouldn't carry two unsharpened Flying Knives as toys, would he?
After infusing True Qi, it suddenly felt like water blending with milk.
But the knife didn't change.
The knife's tip and blade remained as blunt as paper edges, not sharp at all.
He flicked his hand.
The Flying Knife fell onto the opposite desk, bounced off with a "bang," and landed on the floor.
Chu Zhiyuan was puzzled, and called out, "Zou Fang."
Zou Fang, who stood opposite, floated over to pick up the knife and handed it back to him.
Chu Zhiyuan examined the Flying Knife carefully under the light.
Thin as a cicada's wing, hard in texture, cold and heavy as if forged from frost.
There was a faint pattern inside, which looked like a leaf just by the design.
