After more than a month, Yan Hui's ten fingers, left four and right six, finally all grew back.
Standing on the dragon's head, he quickly tapped his fingers as if calculating on an abacus. His teeth clattered, making sounds like chicks pecking at grain. The focus of his pupils shifted constantly, as if many images were brushing past his eyes.
About ten breaths later, the sixth finger on his right hand suddenly snapped off. Turning around excitedly, he said:
"Success! Hiss—so painful!"
Fan Wubing had been paying close attention to his fingers, and at the moment it broke off, he tried to find the force that caused it.
Sadly, he felt nothing.
Yan Hui's finger broke off so abruptly, without any warning or traces, to the point that it seemed it was meant to break off.
"So, what did you calculate?"
Yan Hui put his feet together, raising his right hand at a right angle to his body, rotating like the needle of a compass.
"Move in the direction I'm pointing!"
