The night was bitterly cold.
Gu Qingshan stood in midair, sword in hand, gazing at the river.
"Is it over?" Lola asked.
"No. It's still alive." Gu Qingshan's expression was grave.
Lola asked in surprise, "That's strange. It was stabbed by your sword so many times. How is it not dead?"
"It's coming," Gu Qingshan said. "You'd better stay behind me. There's something wrong with this thing."
Bodies began to rise from the river.
Almost all of them were men in their prime, their hands and feet bound together, their faces frozen in expressions of despair and terror.
At a rough count, there were several thousand bodies, packed tightly together as they floated on the river. Even the rushing current couldn't wash them away.
So these were the knights the old man had mentioned.
They'd been buried in the bridge piers, forming the Grief-Wailing Bridge.
Just then, the old man slowly emerged from the water.
He looked at the horrifying wounds covering his body and spoke as if passing judgment:
"Such vicious swordsmanship. You strike without hesitation, and each sword stroke is enough to snuff out a life. I believe you now when you say you've killed before—you must be an old hand at taking lives."
Gu Qingshan didn't answer.
Why wasn't this fellow dead?
"Mountain Girl, what happened just now?" Gu Qingshan asked.
"My lord, I don't know either. I clearly severed every law on his body." Mountain Girl sounded bewildered.
Gu Qingshan fell silent and looked at the old man.
The old man was drenched, stumbling across the bodies as he gradually made his way toward Gu Qingshan.
Gu Qingshan's gaze flickered.
Countless Sword Auras appeared from thin air, all slashing into the old man.
The old man stood perfectly still, taking the blows with a calm expression,