Moreover, the cultivators in the War Slave Camp had their freedom and dignity stripped away by the Slave Trainer. With Mi Lu’s overbearing and autocratic temperament, how could he possibly give them the chance to equip themselves with additional weapons in private? Therefore, the people inside the venue were basically each equipped with a single sword. The dangers that lay ahead were unknown; if they were to lose their swords, their ability to defend themselves would undoubtedly be greatly compromised. Only then did everyone notice that behind Lin Zheng, a young man in blue clothing followed closely, his presence not deliberately hidden. Yet, in front of someone like Lin Zheng, whose presence was as intense as the blazing sun, he seemed extremely insignificant, making him difficult to notice. Lin Zheng spoke of borrowing a sword, and his tone carried no hint of an order. However, even an outsider like Baili An could feel the difference in their respective social standings. Ye Shu had been standing in place for a while, motionless; perhaps because he was looking down, his protruding shoulder blades made his physique appear particularly lean and cold. Being unable to elicit a response, Lin Zheng grew impatient and repeated his words, "Ye Shu, lend me your sword. When we return, I’ll give you a better one." Those who knew Lin Zheng hardly doubted the weight of his words. Although Lin Zheng could be extremely arrogant and unbridled, acting as if he was never aware of the limits of heaven and earth, he had never reneged on a promise. When he said he would return a better sword, it was not mere lip service. The others, seeing Lin Zheng’s urgency and desperation, began to frown and reproached Ye Shu, "The young Marquis is waiting to use a sword. This is an order from your master. As a house servant’s son, are you going to disobey?" "The young Marquis’s word is his bond. He said he’ll return you a better sword, and he won’t simply take yours without compensation. Besides, as a servant of the Lin Family, not just a sword, but even the clothes you wear and your daily meals belong to the Lin Family. How can you be so lacking in judgment when the master commands?" "Humph, if it were me, just a mere sword could exchange for a glimmer of life; I would have offered it up readily." Ye Shu’s shoulders trembled, finally showing a sign of reaction. After a long moment, he slowly lifted his face, his eyes filled with gloom, his voice icy cold, "Then you do it." The person who had been speaking now stiffened his mouth, annoyed and angered, "The young Marquis asked for your sword, not mine! Don’t try to shirk your responsibilities. Fulfilling the master’s task is the duty of you house slaves. Don’t create excuses. If it wasn’t for the old Marquis taking you in as an orphan from the battlefield years ago, you would have died under some army’s cavalry long ago." "I remember even the sword you hold now was bestowed by the old Marquis in his lifetime. What now? With the old Marquis gone, can’t the young Marquis command you anymore? Or do you really believe, as the rumors say, that after receiving the transmission sword from the Upper Sun Palace, you could turn around and become a lord of your own?" Those cultivators who constantly battled in nights rife with demons and death, pressed continuously by darkness and death, had their temperaments shaped into the current sharp and biting nature over the years. Such people had long been hardened by blood, bitter cold, and mortal threats. A piece of cold stone was forcefully gouged from the solid mine wall by a hand, and in anger, it was smashed into pieces at the man’s feet. Lin Zheng’s face surged with extreme indignation, and his eyes darkened alarmingly, fiery like molten iron inside. That man jumped up, his face filled with alarm and unease, "Young... Young Marquis." As if touching upon a forbidden topic, Lin Zheng’s youthful face flushed with hostility, "Since when did it become your place, a third-rate family scion, to pass judgment on my Lin Family’s matters!" The man, realizing that his impulsive words had touched Lin Zheng’s reverse scale, quickly shut up. Compared to the young Marquis’s fury, the sharply targeted Ye Shu instead became unusually calm, raising his eyes to Lin Zheng with a chilly and deep gaze. The pale knuckles gripping the sword hilt gradually relaxed, he undid the sword strap, threw the sheathed sword, and then turned and left the mine. Lin Zheng drew the sword that was thrown to him; the black orbs of his eyes reflected the "White Water" inscribed on the sword body, his tone cool, "A fine White Water Sword indeed." As a student renowned for his moral character from the Upper Sun Palace, strictly speaking, even for the sake of establishing a connection with the spirit of the Sword Qi, one wouldn’t easily dispose of such an important transmission sword of the Palace. Baili An looked at Lin Zheng’s sneer, and whether it was an illusion or not, he always felt that the smile contained a hint of bitter jealousy. A son of a duke and high official, jealous of a house servant? The spirit of the Sword Qi released from the cloth bag took the form of a child; its physique greatly resembled Shou’s but lacked the unique chilly aura inherent to such shadowy beings. It quickly devoured the White Water Sword Lin Zheng fed it, then patted its belly and burped, seemingly very satisfied. Perhaps it had been too long since it had a proper meal in this sunless place; suddenly fed such a ’feast,’ it looked at Lin Zheng with eyes that turned from hostile to somewhat affectionate. As for the soul communication technique Lin Zheng proactively performed, the spirit didn’t resist much and cooperated well in completing a perfect spiritual dialogue. During the conversation incomprehensible to others, Lin Zheng’s joy became increasingly evident, and his gaze towards the Sword Qi spirit seemed as if he had obtained a treasure. After the spiritual conversation, Lin Zheng shared good news with everyone. His luck must have truly been blessed by heaven; the Sword Qi spirit they had laboriously captured was indeed one of the three thousand Sword Qi from the Dragon Tail’s Dragon Slayer Sword. Thus, the day they would find the Dragon Ball was naturally not far off. Everyone was extremely delighted; for a while, the atmosphere in the mine became extremely heated and excited, with even a few clamoring to open a barrel of wine to drink heartily. The buoyant Lin Zheng naturally cheered on. Baili An, somewhat unable to stand the noisy atmosphere, briefly communicated with Xun Guan, indicating his desire to walk around. Xun Guan, also immersed in the joy of quickly finding the Sword Qi spirit of the Dragon Slayer Sword, was too preoccupied to pay much attention to Baili An. After casually instructing him not to stray too far from the defensive array set up by the others, he joined the crowd to toast Lin Zheng, the young Marquis. Holding a lantern, Baili An soon exited the mine; the damp, cold wind of the earth veins rose, brushing against his face with a refreshing chill; the wind seemed tinged with sadness, adding a touch of desolation to the world. "Being blind, isn’t carrying a lantern to light your way a bit superfluous?" Not far away, Ye Shu’s voice carried through the wind, his voice low, not sounding like that of a young man. Indeed, his cultivation was on par with Lin Zheng, so how could he still be a youth? It was unknown why, but something had stopped his aging process, leaving him permanently in his youthful appearance, never growing older. Baili An glanced sideways in the direction Ye Shu was speaking from and smiled, "This lantern is for spirit searching, not for illuminating the path." To Ye Shu, Baili An must have seemed a stranger, and even Xun Guan, who appeared less cunning, kept speculating about his identity. Yet, Ye Shu seemed uninterested in these matters; after a short silence, he asked a question that interested him, "Why aren’t you celebrating with them?" Baili An tilted his head, puzzled, "Why celebrate? Is there something joyful?" Ye Shu replied, "With the spirit of the Sword Qi leading the way, they’ll soon find the Dragon Ball. Once they have the Dragon Ball, they can leave the Demon World." Baili An chuckled and shook his head but said no more. At that moment, Ye Shu, leaning against the rock wall, covered his mouth with one hand, seemingly trying to speak but unable to utter a sound. His shoulders trembled violently, his exceptionally thin back harshly bent into a taut bow. He coughed agonizingly, his throat and lungs seeming to be ruthlessly slashed by an invisible blade. As his intense coughing was accompanied by suppressed retching sounds, blood sprayed from between his fingers, splattering the ground vividly, tragically crimson. The thin blue clothing slowly absorbed the wet redness, and that cold, melancholic man seemed to become infinitely haggard in an instant.