The oil lamp flickered unsteadily, and the air inside the dilapidated house was so gloomy it seemed as if it could drip water.
Yu Yiyuan, attendant to the coffin, sat silently at the broken wooden table, gently stroking the Ancient Sword at his waist.
His complexion was grave, with a murderous look in his eyes towards You Er.
Clang!
A Japanese swordsman suddenly drew his sword.
Swift as the wind beneath his feet, even before the sword's hum faded, he appeared behind "You Er," the sharp blade resting against his neck.
A mere slice would end his life.
"A lowly peasant rising against his betters, I'll slay you first!"
Feeling the coldness on his neck, You Er remained unfazed, speaking with a wry smile, "Lord Shinada, were you intent on killing, you wouldn't wait till now. If you have something to say, do say it; otherwise... it seems quite rude."
"How daring!"
Shinada, the samurai, was furious but still did not act.
Not because he didn't want to, but because he dared not.
