"Zheng Xuyang, can you not get yourself covered in blood for once?" Ji Mingzhi grabbed my wrist and said disgustedly, the blood there was flowing happily.
"Okay, Teacher Ji, let's use yours." I flashed the knife and shook it with a smile.
Ji Mingzhi suddenly came forward, grabbed the knife, quickly wiped the blood on my wrist, and threw it behind me.
With a hiss, the rancid black air dispersed.
"..." I subconsciously drew my peach wood sword and turned around, protecting Ji Mingzhi behind me.
"Is it the boy who died that year?"
"Definitely not."
"Why?"
"Because, the boy who died that year,"
I paused for a moment and then continued in a sad tone: "It's you."