Chapter 6: Seven-Inch Sword Light

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The flying rabbit beast, towering as tall as two men, raised its enormous paw and advanced step by step, stirring clouds of icy shards and snow. The icicles hanging from the surrounding branches fell in a shower.

“Kill!”

Tan Qingxuan did not retreat; instead, she pressed forward, the crimson gleam of her sword aimed straight at the flying rabbit’s massive head.

The others quickly spread out in a fan formation. Their weapons could not cut through the beast’s thick fur, serving only as distractions to draw its attention.

Lin Zhan, under Fang Daguang’s guidance, had already abandoned his long spear for a repeating crossbow. He fumbled to load three black bolts into the mechanism—this was the proper way to attack from mid- to long-range.

Five or six repeating crossbows fired in unison. Most bolts bounced harmlessly off; the damage seemed negligible against the flying rabbit.

Lin Zhan aimed for the beast’s head, hoping to strike a vulnerable spot, but its sharp claws deftly deflected his shot. Only one bolt, by sheer luck, lodged itself between the claws.

The flying rabbit, enraged, halted and lowered its head to inspect, clearly uncomfortable.

At that moment, Tan Qingxuan leapt high, tracing a graceful arc through the air—a height no ordinary human could hope to achieve. Her crimson blade swept down with tremendous force.

Moo!

The flying rabbit let out a strange, bovine cry, instinctively raising its paw to block, its wings fluttering in fury.

As Lin Zhan loaded the second batch of bolts, he glanced up, breathless at the sight. His right hand clenched into a fist, as if he himself had struck the blow.

Unbeknownst to him, a mysterious radiance flowed from the mark embedded in his palm.

Attacking the rabbit’s head was merely a feint; the crimson blade tilted slightly as it descended. At the very instant Lin Zhan clenched his fist, the sword’s red glow surged—from three inches to a full seven, casting an eerie light on the beast’s snarling face.

“Pfft!”

The seven-inch crimson arc sliced down from the creature’s left shoulder. A geyser of blood erupted, and one half of its wing was cleaved cleanly away, falling to the ground and still fluttering.

Moo!

Staggered by the blow, the flying rabbit lost its balance and toppled sideways.

Tan Qingxuan landed and, disregarding all caution, hacked furiously. The seven-inch sword glow was indeed formidable; for a beast of ordinary rank, it was fatal.

Yet soon, the crimson glow dwindled back to three inches, no matter how fiercely she wielded her blade.

The flying rabbit lay, hide split and flesh torn, while the group cheered softly. Tan Qingxuan stood apart, puzzled as she examined her sword.

Lin Zhan, leaning on his recovered spear, gasped for air.

Fang Daguang approached, asking Miss Tan to deliver another blow to the beast’s head.

With Lin Zhan watching in astonishment, the rabbit’s skull was split open. Fang Daguang fished out a small black crystal from the muddled flesh.

After wiping it clean, the crystal revealed a dark, gleaming translucence.

“A third-grade beast crystal—not bad at all!” Fang Daguang was satisfied. For such a flying rabbit, not yet evolved into a demon beast, to produce a beast crystal was rare; only those in the process of evolving might yield such magical stones, and higher grades were reserved for true demon beasts.

Lin Zhan finally understood the dozen or so black stones in his bundle—they were beast crystals, valuable for trading various useful supplies.

Having witnessed the rabbit’s ferocity, he realized how hard-won these crystals were.

Clutching his bundle tightly, Lin Zhan resolved not to let it slip away; these treasures were his only wealth in this icy world.

Besides the crystal, Fang Daguang carved several hefty cuts of meat from the beast. He claimed they were especially delicious roasted, and highly nourishing. He emphasized that any beast producing a crystal was a delicacy—if it hadn’t eaten you, you must eat it in return for vengeance.

“Ha! Who knew Brother Guang was such a foodie?” Lin Zhan laughed.

Out of the fifteen-member team, one had been killed by the flying rabbit, leaving fourteen.

They pressed on, though now Miss Tan Qingxuan seemed troubled.

She could not fathom why, when facing the flying rabbit, her sword glow surged to seven inches, only to shrink again to a meager three.

Lin Zhan, too, was bewildered by the magical crimson light that appeared on the weapons before his eyes, overturning his understanding of the world.

Not only the sword glow, but the now fearsome flying rabbit and the snow-covered landscape felt utterly alien to him.

Yet, after nearly four years at the Police Academy, he retained a calmness in the face of adversity—a foundation that allowed him to keep pace and learn alongside the team.

Had it been anyone else, fear might have overwhelmed them long ago.

Slaying the flying rabbit was only the opening act in the battles of this forest path. Hours later, two soldiers leading the way fell into a cavern whose echo had long been lost, and the remaining group was attacked by an ice ape—two dead, four wounded.

In the chaos of battling the ape, not only did Tan Qingxuan’s sword once again blaze with seven inches of crimson light, but Fang Daguang and Lian Ming’s broad sabers also flared with blade glows.

Lin Zhan noticed the pattern in his own right palm—it was shaped like an emblem. During combat, silvery light flowed along its lines, swirling ceaselessly, and his palm burned with heat.

“Could it be that their blade glows are connected to the mark in my palm?” Initially uncertain, Lin Zhan realized that, being always on the sidelines, his main task was to avoid drawing the beasts’ attention—making him the most idle member.

In those stolen moments, he closely observed the mark’s changes, finally gaining confidence.

Their blade glows were indeed empowered by the mark in his palm; when he clenched his fist, their sword and blade glows grew stronger and more radiant.

Secretly, Lin Zhan tried gripping a machete himself, hoping to trigger a blade glow and join the battle proudly, rather than skulking in fear.

But no matter how he experimented—left hand, right hand, both hands—the heavy machete, weighing over ten pounds, could only chip ice and send fragments flying, never producing the magical glow.

When clearing the battlefield, Lin Zhan kicked an ice block in frustration, pain shooting through his toes as he grumbled inwardly, “Am I just a legendary furnace, bringing benefits to others and none to myself?”