Remembering Glorious Days, Heaven-Pouring Radiance; Reconciled with Myself, One-Sword Flying Flower

Black Night swallowed the last wisp of sunset at the horizon.

In the darkness, the beasts of the forest opened their eyes, about to begin their hunt. Ferocious roars echoed from afar.

Storyteller stood guard at the side, staring tensely at his elder brother seated cross-legged on the ground. "You're unsheathing your hidden sword!"

"It's fine. I'm merely loosening my bones a little."

Having said that, Ba Zunan closed his eyes. His aura fully withdrew, and he became like an ordinary boulder one could find anywhere in these mountains.

"What exactly did Kui Leihan tell you?!"

Storyteller grew anxious. "No matter how important they are, they can't be more important than you! You've hidden your sword for so many years—how can you break your cultivation for their sake?"

The only answer was the stillness of the mountain forest, along with the nearly imperceptible footsteps of beasts quietly drawing closer.

"Is Xu Xiaoshou more important, or are you?" Storyteller stopped himself from kicking his brother over and interrupting his current state.

The latter still gave no response.

"Will it hurt you?"

His tone softened. He crouched beside Ba Zunan. "If something happens to you, I won't be able to explain it to Sister Yue."

Playing the lute to a cow.

Storyteller's brows twitched again and again. At last, he could bear it no longer, and thirty years of pent-up resentment poured out that night:

"Fine, fine, fine!"

"You're all the clever ones, and we're just mortals, deadweight!"

"None of you ever says anything. Even if you do, we won't understand. Even if we understand, we can't do it. And if we can't do it, we might as well not ask—is that it?"

"You're like this! Wen Ting is like this too! Us Taixu are all useless, while you sword cultivators float