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... was injured.

Furthermore, Feng Xia suspected that it wasn’t a physical damage, but rather that the Saber Spirit had suffered an impact, causing its consciousness to be scattered and unable to regain control of itself.

Perhaps it was for this reason that when the Butcher finally chose to go to the front line, he did not bring this terrifying weapon with him. Instead, he put it on the shelf and waited for someone to discover it later.

“The result of this battle…”

Fe ...

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“You…” She stepped back. Then back again, her mouth dropped open. “You… You cannot be…”

“I am,” Etan said, and his hair raked back as he pushed his mask off his handsome face. So handsome her heart raced.

His hair was ebony black, his skin a warm brown that threatened to fade in in the winter months. He stared at her with glittering green eyes, over high cheekbones and a noble nose, his jaw tight and shadowed this late in the day. His chin was high over the pillar of his neck that she’d just touched with its hard lines and steel strength, so different to her own. And his chest... She gasped and covered her eyes. She’d humiliated herself revealing her stupid, childish curiosity.

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She couldn’t resist. She raised a trembling hand to his cheek, letting her palm catch on the scruff of his jaw. He blew out a breath and put his hand over hers, and that jolt that happened whenever they touched shivered through her again.

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