With the door fastened securely behind him, Chen Hai huddled in his room.
If he had been holding a knife and gesturing with it, that very scene—if seen by his father, Chen Zhonghua—would have certainly set his imagination running wild.
Chen Zhonghua, his father, had only just turned around and left, yet the Hongming Blade was once again in Chen Hai's grasp.
Admittedly, communicating with the Hongming Blade didn't actually require him to hold the sword in his hand, but many things had become a matter of habit.
Holding this blade, he felt more connected when he tried to call out to Hongming.
Otherwise, he felt like he was talking to himself, speaking to the air.
"Hongming, are you listening to me? That piece of beast skin—you remember where it came from, don't you?" Chen Hai cautiously started his inquiry.
"Kid, such a simple question could never stump Master Hongming!"
