This was not Lu Hou'er's first time meeting Wu Wanzhong. But the Wu Wanzhong of the past had been sharp, wise, and domineering, just like the saber in his hand—unparalleled in its keenness, swift as thunder, leaving an exceptionally deep impression on others.
Yet this time, today, led by Wu Xuan to meet Wu Wanzhong, he suddenly discovered that this man known throughout the martial world as the Swift Saber had actually acquired traces of weariness and age. It stood in stark contrast to the vigorous, energetic image of a capable middle-aged man he had once presented.
It had not even been a year since their last meeting. How had he become like this already?
It seemed Old Blade Zhao held a far from ordinary place in his heart.
"Brother Wu, it has been a long time. Your complexion does not seem very good. Is something troubling you?"
They met in a tea room within Wu Manor. It was spacious and arranged with quiet elegance. The snow-white plastered walls displayed calligraphy and paintings by renowned masters.
Emerald plants brimmed with vigorous life, lush and verdant, a delight to behold.
Especially the fragrance of tea that permeated the air—it soothed the heart and refreshed the spirit, putting one at ease.
The servants around them had all been dismissed beforehand. The only people in the room were the father and son, Wu Wanzhong and Wu Xuan, as well as Lu Hou'er, who carried the Wooden Saber Box on his back.
Hearing Lu Hou'er's greeting, Wu Wanzhong tugged up a faint smile. His prominent cheekbones pulled at the somewhat pale flesh of his cheeks, revealing a sense of weakness and hollowness. Yet his brows and eyes remained sharp as blades.
"Gang Leader Lu does not visit a temple without cause. If you have