“No.” He looked at his hands—the same hands that had killed a hundred men, a thousand, a number that stopped meaning anything after the second century. Hands that had held his daughter, once. Before she aged and withered while he stayed seventeen. “I believe in grudges.”
“Seven.” Manji rolled his shoulder, feeling the sacred bloodworms shift under his skin. “Lucky number.” Blade of the Immortal -Dub-
“You don’t believe in luck.”
“Had to let them think they had a chance.” He cracked his neck, feeling the thousand-year-old cartilage pop. “Makes it more humiliating.” Blade of the Immortal -Dub-