"Ah...choo!"
On the distant road, Yin warrior Wu Zhao, who was possessing a wandering swordsman, sneezed, causing his brow to furrow slightly.
"Who is thinking about me?"
Yin warrior Wu Zhao's steps halted.
It's said that sneezing means someone is thinking about you, although this is nothing more than folklore, a tale people occasionally talk about without truly believing—yet for Wu Zhao, as a Yin, it was entirely different. Given his current strength, catching a cold was absolutely impossible.
Weakness brings illness, but being strong, how could he possibly develop any inexplicable ailments?
This could very well be some kind of omen from the unknown, but this warning was too vague, and for now, he couldn't discern what it truly meant.
Fortunately, he had recently bought a few live turtles.
"Boom—"
With a single swing of the blade, the palm-sized turtle was burned to ashes, and under the gray-black flames, the remaining turtle shell cracked.
