Near Flowing Wave Mountain.
The sea breeze, thick with a salty tang, was finally left far behind.
They flew through the sky on their swords.
Mountains and rivers raced backward beneath them like a rapidly unrolling scroll.
The Qingyun Sect's people swept across the sky in a great procession, like a long dragon.
Compared to the tension of their journey there, the mood on the way back was noticeably more relaxed.
The righteous faction had won a great victory, and the Demonic Sect had retreated.
For the young disciples, that was enough to brag about for years to come.
Ye Xuan stood on his immortal sword with his hands clasped behind his head, swaying lazily. He didn't look like a peerless master at all.
Zhang Xiaofan followed close beside him. The Firewood Stick beneath his feet glimmered faintly green, and he looked somewhat ill at ease.
"Seventh."
"Stop swaying so much. You're going to make Xiao Fan dizzy."
Song Daren flew alongside them and couldn't help speaking up.
A simple, honest smile graced his face, but his eyes were full of pride.
The Great Bamboo Peak disciples had certainly made a name for themselves on this trip to Flowing Wave Mountain.
First, Zhang Xiaofan's strange magic treasure had shown its power. Then Ye Xuan had unleashed a sword strike that shook the heavens, even forcing the Ghost King to retreat.
Now, when disciples from the other peaks looked their way, their eyes were different.
The mingled envy and respect made Song Daren, as the eldest senior brother, stand a little taller.
"Senior Brother, you're worrying over nothing."
Ye Xuan lazily spat out the grass stem in his mouth.
"Xiao Fan's practicing the Drunken Sword. You don't understand, so don't talk nonsense."
Zhang Xiaofan scratched his head and chuckled awkwardly. "Senior