Setting down a stool on a patch of empty ground, Du Chengfeng weighed the general's flag in his hand.
The flagpole was about eight feet tall, entirely crafted from hardwood, with a spearhead mounted at the top. The old flag's edges were frayed, and even the embroidered flying fiery phoenix had faded in color.
"Still good, still good."
Du Chengfeng felt secretly relieved.
Though he didn't know how to maintain the fabric of the flag, at least it still had a spearhead.
With a spearhead, things would be easier. He could use it for sharpening.
After pouring some clear water to wet the Grinding Stone, Du Chengfeng laid the large flag down and began to hone it.
It's often said, a broken spear sinks in the sand but the iron not yet worn, washes it anew to recognize the past dynasty.
Wait a moment, past dynasty?
"Whoa!"
Du Chengfeng couldn't help but feel a jolt in his heart.
