Lin Zhaoyue tilted her chin, her voice like silk laced with venom.
"You need not place your eyes on ugly pests."
Fang Yuan's laugh rolled out, low and amused as he didn't even try to peer past her.
Instead, his gaze lingered on her for a second, as though the rest of the battlefield had ceased to exist.
Then, with a flick of his wrist, a pair of daggers appeared in his hands.
The Blazing Fang Daggers.
Heaven-grade weapons, their edges forged from molten core-iron mined at the heart of a dead volcano.
The blades glowed faintly as though veins of living fire still coursed through them, heat shimmering around their crimson length.
The air itself warped, tinged red, as Fang Yuan casually spun them in his grip.
Fang Yuan twirled the crimson daggers once more before, with an easy smile, offering them hilt-first to Lin Zhaoyue.
"Here's your gift."
Her eyes lit up like a child's on the first day of spring.
