"Chen... Xin..."
The night wind swept aside the loose strands of hair before Li Zhixian's brow.
In a complicated tone, he spoke the name of the white-clad figure.
Chen Xin stood atop the roof's eaves, his white hair and robes fluttering gently in the wind.
He lowered his eyes to the youth below, a trace of nearly imperceptible gratification passing through their depths as he said calmly:
"Banished Immortal, can you no longer even call me Teacher?"
Li Zhixian's lips parted and closed.
Yet that form of address remained caught between his teeth, never leaving his mouth.
After all, he was only thirteen.
Memories came flooding back like the tide...
That day, Ning Rongrong had abandoned him and left.
And his Teacher had not said a single word from beginning to end.
That night, his heart had been tangled with sorrow. Only strong liquor had washed down his throat, while the resentment filling his chest howled forth as sword qi.
He had been alone, with only sword and wine for company.
Chen Xin...
The man who had led him onto the path of a Soul Master.
Yet he had been stingy even with a single word of comfort.
How could Li Zhixian not hold it against him?
"What brings Senior Chen Xin here?"
Li Zhixian suppressed his churning emotions, his tone as calm as water.
Chen Xin said nothing more.
He slowly extended his hand.
With that motion, an ancient sword hilt appeared out of thin air and fell into his palm.
Sections of an ancient, gleaming white blade emerged one after another, ultimately forming a long sword measuring four feet and three inches.
Seven blood-red markings wound across the guard like flowing blood, proclaiming the name "Seven Kill."
The instant Chen Xin grasped the Seven Kill Sword...
The courtyard,