The Qilin Eight Oracles are the most precious treasure in the world. Whoever can obtain them will undoubtedly open the door to the world's treasure. Every time they appear, they can set off a bloody killing. For thousands of years, no one has been able to gather all the Eight Oracles. wwW!qUAnbEn-xIaosHuo!coM In modern times, foreign powers have opened the door to China, and foreign forces have poured in in large numbers. With the strong support of the country, they have stepped into the ranks of competition. Except for the Black Dragon Society that got one, no one has heard of who the other seven "Eight Oracles" ended up with. After decades, they appeared again, and the Black Dragon Society was involved. Han Changchun and Duan Qi made up their minds that even if they risked their lives, they would never allow the Eight Oracles to fall into the hands of the Black Dragon Society.
Three days passed quickly, and Qishi Changfeng's injuries improved a little, so he took the initiative to leave. He wanted to retreat to gain the favor of the two elders, and maybe they would let him wait until his wounds healed before leaving, which would be the best. But Han Changchun had other plans, so he naturally wouldn't keep him. Duan Qi even prepared Han Xiaohan's luggage. Seeing the two people's anxious look, they seemed to want to kick him out, so Qishi Changfeng couldn't deny it no matter how thick-skinned he was.
Two pots of Erguotou and a pot of stewed meat were their farewell meal. As they were about to leave, Han Xiaohan had no appetite and the meat tasted like wax.
The meal was so depressing that Seventh Changfeng almost felt suffocated. After barely filling his stomach, he stood up to say goodbye, and thanked the two elders again and again for taking him in for three days.
Han Changchun and Duan Qi gave Han Xiaohan a few more instructions and handed him the bag they had prepared. The former took out a delicate short blade that was barely one foot long and two fingers wide and handed it to him, saying, "This blade is called 'Han Shuang'. It was passed down during the Yongle period of the Ming Dynasty. It is made of cold iron. The blade is short and sharp, suitable for carrying. It has been with me for many years and has swallowed countless blood, but there has never been a ghost who died unjustly under Han Shuang. Xiaohan, today I am handing this blade to you, and at the same time I am giving you four words - 'a clear conscience'."
Frost, like the saber, was Han Changchun's defensive weapon. It was extremely sharp and could break rocks and split gold. Hundreds of years had passed, but there was no trace of rust on the blade. Han Xiaohan took it and held the knife in his hand. A chill came from his palm, spreading all over his body. What a good knife! Han Xiaohan praised it in his heart and asked, "What will you use in the future?"
Han Changchun laughed and said proudly: "Now, a good knife or a bad knife makes no difference to me."
Han Xiaohan was shocked after hearing this and blinked doubtfully. Seeing that his grandfather was confident, he said nothing more and silently put away the knife.
Finally, he was leaving the place where he had lived for more than ten years. He felt a little reluctant. Standing at the foot of Donglin Mountain, looking at the green and majestic mountains towering into the clouds, he couldn't help but let out a long howl. The howl was long and continuous, sounding low and weak, and then it shook people's ears. The Seventh Changfeng shook his head and said, "Little brother, don't look anymore. Take me to the nearest county first." "What's the matter?" Han Xiaohan frowned and asked.
Qiqi Changfeng explained helplessly: "First, we have to take a car to the south, whether it is a car or a train, which is not available in this poor mountain valley. Second, let's change our clothes first." Han Xiaohan had thrown away his bloodstained clothes with big holes and small eyes, and changed into an old clothes that Duan Qi couldn't bear to wear again. Not only was the size a size larger, but the trouser legs and sleeves were rolled up a long way, and it was so old-fashioned that it was about to fall apart. Even he felt embarrassed to wear it, and felt ashamed of the country's decades of prosperity. Looking at Han Xiaohan, he was not much better. The earthy gray clothes all over his body matched his appearance, which was indescribably awkward. Han Xiaohan looked him up and down, then looked down at himself, and said seriously: "Why do you want to change clothes? I think it's good."