He seemed to see William Carter writhing in agony under his hand, suffering a fate worse than death, and his mood became exceptionally elated.

　　“Ding—”

　　At last, the short blade and the broken blade met in midair.

　　Then, a crisp snapping sound rang out—the short blade broke in response, while the broken blade, as if slicing through a strand of hair, continued forward without the slightest resistance, slashing down from the right side of Grace Bolton’s neck and cutting straight to his chest.

　　Grace Bolton’s eyes and mouth suddenly opened to their widest, staring fixedly at the broken blade in his chest, as if he could no longer even feel the boundless pain.

　　The only thing he could sense was his strength and life rapidly slipping away from him. He tried to raise his hand, but no matter how hard he struggled, it was useless. His gaze remained locked on the broken blade that had paralyzed him, leaving him unable to move.

　　A broken blade, a broken blade...

　　This... damn it... is a broken blade!

　　That was his final thought in this world. Then his consciousness sank into oblivion, never to return. Yet even in death, he could not understand how a broken blade could possess such power.

　　William Carter stood there holding the broken blade, maintaining the same slashing posture.

　　In fact, this was not a wise move, because whether human or beast, once wounded, there is always the possibility of a desperate struggle before death. As the saying goes, the most dangerous beast is a wounded one—at death’s door, it can often drag its opponent down with it.

　　However, the reason William Carter did not move away was not because he was unwilling, but because he simply couldn’t.

　　When he struck, breaking Grace Bolton’s short blade and cutting into his flesh, his mind was actually calm, without the slightest ripple.

　　This state was absolutely not like that of someone who had never seen blood before.

　　Yet, when his consciousness was mysteriously split in two, this bizarre scene naturally unfolded.

　　After wounding his enemy with a single blow, just as William Carter was about to pull out the broken blade and strike again while the iron was hot, a strange surge of heat suddenly rushed from the blade into his own body.

　　As a result, William Carter’s movements paused slightly. Though he didn’t understand why, he simply had a feeling that this surge of heat was greatly beneficial to him.

　　Then, he witnessed an incredibly terrifying scene with his own eyes.

　　Under his broken blade, there was no blood splattering.

　　A slash from the right side of the neck down to the chest should have produced a torrent of blood. Yet at this moment, there was not a trace of blood on Grace Bolton’s body, because all of it had been absorbed by the broken blade in William Carter’s hand.

　　This broken blade seemed to possess some kind of incredible magical power—not only could it absorb blood, but even flesh and bone appeared to be within its range of absorption.

　　Grace Bolton’s flesh and blood body shriveled away before William Carter’s very eyes.

　　If William Carter were not in this strange state of split consciousness, he might have fainted from fright at such a horrifying sight. But now, he simply stared wide-eyed, quietly watching the transformation, as if the collapsing body was not human, but a human-shaped balloon with a hole in it.

　　In just a moment, Grace Bolton vanished before William Carter’s eyes.

　　Some clothing fluttered to the ground, along with a few scattered trinkets, but Grace Bolton himself had completely disappeared—not even a single hair or fingernail remained.

　　In contrast, William Carter, holding the broken blade, was glowing with health, full of energy, his entire body brimming with an uncontainable surge of vitality.

　　In fact, William Carter had expended a great deal today. Under the supervision and guidance of the old craftsman, he had spent the whole day working with weapons. Though he had exercised restraint, he could not avoid a deep sense of fatigue.

　　Then, brought here by Grace Bolton, he was forced to unleash his potential in a life-or-death crisis, repeatedly using weapons in a very short time.

　　Such exertion was not something someone of his age and body could normally withstand. Only the terror of facing death and the special state of split consciousness had forced it out of him.

　　This kind of overexertion was a form of self-harm, even damaging his very foundation, making future progress nearly impossible.

　　Yet at this moment, if anyone were told that there was anything wrong with William Carter’s body, they simply wouldn’t believe it.

　　It was as if his body now possessed inexhaustible strength. His eyes sparkled, almost shining, and even at his best, he had never been so astonishing.

　　William Carter even felt an urge to let out a furious roar.

　　However, that split consciousness still lingered, making his heart instantly cold as ice.

　　Glancing around, William Carter summoned his weapon again. In the blink of an eye, the broken blade had become dull and lifeless.

　　Absorb.

　　Without hesitation, he drew out all the attributes from the broken blade, turning it into a worthless piece of scrap iron. With a kick, he sent the severed short blade flying into two separate piles of weapons and armor.