"Brother..."
Lin Xiaojin's eyes were already red-rimmed. How could she fail to see Lu Feng's predicament? Recalling how Lin Liyun had coughed blood and lain unconscious for days after performing this very sword art, her heart was thrown into extreme turmoil.
Knowing full well the physical burden this sword art imposed, Lin Xiaojin's brows brimmed with guilt and self-reproach far greater than before.
Had she known this would happen, she never would have let Lu Feng learn this sword art.
If she could, she truly wished she could trade her own life for his.
As though she could sense Lin Xiaojin's feelings, Lin Wanxia held her hand and gave it a gentle, affectionate pat, soothing her emotions.
Yet no one noticed that the expression on her wrinkled face was extraordinarily complicated at this moment.
Zhong Sanxiao, too, was filled with emotion. He had never imagined that after merely three-odd years apart, Lin Liyun had cultivated the Little Burial Flower Swordplay to such a level.
Feeling the sword intent radiating from it—resentful, mournful, desolate, and sorrowful, faintly laced with a stifled, indignant spirit—even he, who had immersed himself in the sword for many years, secretly felt inferior.
The Lin Family has successors at last!
As Zhong Sanxiao sighed with emotion, a gratified expression surfaced on his face. Thinking of the sword wounds Lu Feng had left on Lin Jinran and the other two earlier, he had already understood Lu Feng's intentions.
When he looked toward Lin Baijian at the side again, his gaze unreservedly revealed a trace of chill.
At that moment, on the Martial Arts Arena.
Flower Piercing Willow Sweeping, Begonia's Surprise;
One Inch of Fragrant Heart, hearts alike, lives entwined;
Fragrant End, Red Extinguished, Burial Flower Lament!
As Lu Feng unleashed the Little Burial Flower Swordplay in succession, Lin