The roaring fire burned behind Chen Ji.
As Chen Ji rushed out from the sea of flames, the shelves within began to collapse, and the beams groaned under the strain, as the flames completely engulfed the entire warehouse.
In the backyard, everyone halted, leaving only the crackling sound of the burning fire.
Aunt Ping turned to see Chen Ji, covered in soot and smoke, with his clothes burned into tattered holes, and his messy hair singed and curled.
In his arms, he tightly held a pear wood carving plate, something he risked his life to save from the inferno.
Though he appeared disheveled, he remarkably resembled a sword freshly tempered in fierce fire.
There is no sharper sword than the youthful spirit in this world.
The Jiefan Guard exchanged glances, disregarding what Chen Ji said, intent on capturing him first.
