After the two finished speaking, He Shouyi strode out of the wooden stockade.
Outside, the dusk had already deepened, and a thin layer of water mist floated over the surface of Jadewater Marsh.
He vaulted onto a fast horse and galloped away toward Chiyan Valley in the northwest direction with two attendants.
The hooves trampled the shallow water by the lake, splashing a string of mud.
Inside the wooden stockade, Wei Ping leaned slowly back against the chair and closed his eyes.
Those elders and hall masters exchanged glances with one another, then rose and silently retreated one by one.
Before long, only Wei Ping and that thin sheet of letter paper on the table remained in the wooden stockade.
He opened his eyes, looked at the line of words on the letter, and suddenly gave a low laugh.
That smile was bitter, as if he were mocking himself.
Liu Canglan, oh Liu Canglan.
He muttered aloud, his voice echoing in the empty wooden stockade.
You certainly have been thriving by Wang Yuan's side. When you vanished without a word back then, I thought you were dead.
Now look at you, you have become the guest of honor of a new master, whereas I, your old master, must go and kneel to beg for surrender.
Wei Ping stood up, walked to the door of the wooden stockade, and gazed at the patch of mist over Jadewater Marsh in the dusk.
The lake breeze blew across the water surface, wrapping the chill of late autumn and the fishy scent of water weeds.
He stood for a long time, until the last trace of twilight on the horizon sank down as well.
Surrender if we must.
With a look of exhaustion on his face, Wei Ping could not help whispering a single