Late at night,
The evening breeze sighed softly, sparse stars and a pale moon hung overhead, and all was silent.
On a cliff.
Lu Yang sat cross-legged, an ancient zither laid before him.
His ten fingers lightly brushed the strings. The music was low and mournful, like weeping and pleading, steeped in a bleak, desolate melancholy.
As the Inner Sect Ninth Elder of the Ten Thousand Swords Immortal Sect, Lu Yang had long enjoyed the reputation of Dual Excellence in Zither and Sword. Throughout Wen Province, he could be counted among the few foremost Immortal Lords.
He was lean, with the weathered vigor of a green pine in his bearing. His eyes were closed, as though wholly immersed in playing the zither.
Bang!
Suddenly, a blood-soaked figure fell from the sky and smashed into the ground not far from the cliff.
The figure was covered in horrific sword wounds, his flesh mangled and blurred. Even his long hair was caked with mud and blood.
A closer look revealed that it was Qi Fufeng!
His face was beyond recognition, and his injuries were grievous. He had clearly endured endless torment and torture; not an inch of his body remained intact, and his aura was weak and chaotic.
After crashing to the ground, he gasped sharply, his entire body trembling and convulsing. No matter how hard he tried, he could not rise.
Immediately afterward, a woman in a fiery red skirt drifted down.
She was quite lovely, yet her bearing was cold, severe, and aloof. A sword case was strapped to her back.
The moment she landed, she planted one foot directly on Qi Fufeng's bloody head, crushing his cheek against the ground until blood flowed from his seven orifices. He looked utterly miserable.
Yet the woman in the red skirt remained