Wei Cang, the old master, rushed to the blacksmith shop with an astonishing speed for someone in his seventies. It was hard to imagine that he was already an old man. Upon arriving at the blacksmith shop, the old master immediately spotted two curved blades resembling crescent moons being demonstrated.
The blades had an overall black body, but a touch of red blended naturally into the edge, reminiscent of the last glow of sunset before the long night. It was difficult to describe its charm with any words.
"Do these two blades have names?" Wei Cang's voice trembled, unable to believe his own eyes.
Li Qing smiled and handed the two long blades to him, explaining, "I have not disappointed you, Wei Lao. The blades are named Yu Huo. What do you think?"
As Wei Cang received the twin blades Yu Huo and felt their texture in his palms, tears streamed down his face: "Good! The name is good, and the blades are even better! The wishes of our ancestors have finally been realized in my generation."