"Yes, Martial Uncle!"
That night, Cangsong made a trip to the Founder Ancestral Hall on Tongtian Peak, then went to see Daoxuan. No one knew what they discussed.
The matter did not continue to escalate and seemed to have been quietly dropped.
Only Cangsong knew Daoxuan's decision. Since he had wrought this sin himself, if the truth ever came to light, he would settle it with his own disciple.
As for whether this would cause him to neglect Lin Jingyu's instruction, Daoxuan was not worried. Otherwise, Cangsong would not have come to confess his sins to him.
As for Shi Yongheng, after returning to Tongtian Peak, he went about all day carrying a broom.
The true essence of Taiji was neither heavy nor not heavy, neither light nor not light—using four ounces to move a thousand pounds.
What looked like ordinary sweeping held profound mysteries. Dust and fallen leaves were drawn to the seemingly lightly wielded broom. When there was too much, they even formed a ball of trash that the broom drove along.
Time flowed on. Through countless sunrises and sunsets, Tongtian Peak's ancient pines remained lush and green, while two years slipped quietly through their fingers.
On a broad expanse of blue-brick paving stood a handsome youth in white, upright as a towering pine.
The youth held a longsword, his bearing refined and otherworldly. His brows were shaped like swords, and a sharp, imposing aura emanated from him.
Seeing Shi Yongheng sweeping the grounds, the youth in white was clearly astonished.
This man, now the most senior member of Qingyun, was actually...
"Disciple Lin Jingyu pays respects to Martial Granduncle!"
"Oh, it's you, little fellow!"
As he spoke, his broom moved slightly. Dust and fallen leaves instantly transformed into sharp weapons that shot toward Lin Jingyu.
Lin Jingyu