Hua Cheng retrieved a fan from one of the armory shelves. It was small and intricate, its spine and leaf made of pure gold, serene and beautiful. Hua Cheng twirled it in his hand, then snapped it open. He grinned wordlessly, elegance suffusing his murderous aura. He flipped his hand and fanned, and a strong gust shot toward them with a blinding silver flash.
