On the shore of Reed Island, Li Huowang stood holding a blood-soaked set of bamboo slips.
The others stood not far away, their faces ghastly pale. They huddled together, watching him, not yet having recovered from the aftershock of the recent events.
Li Huowang's expression was hesitant. With a single, forceful throw, the bamboo slips—so utterly evil that a mere glance could induce vomiting—would sink into the mud of the lake, never to see the light of day again.
This seems like the best option. The power of Bahu is not something to be borrowed lightly. If left in this world, these bamboo slips will only bring endless suffering to others.
After pondering for a long time, Li Huowang finally stuffed the bloodstained bamboo slips back into the folds of his robe.
