Why bother?
Whether it was the demonic eye that had already disappeared, or the old monk he had never met.
Whether the one who had grievously wounded Ye Honglian and ultimately died beneath their swords was Buddha or demon, none of it was something he could have foreseen.
All he knew was that it had to be a terrifying being—one capable of reducing a prodigy like Ye Honglian to this state, and letting a young man like Wang Xian walk away unscathed.
And yet, for an illusory demonic eye, he had fought Wang Xian, a complete stranger, in a life-or-death battle—a fight to the death with no end until one of them fell.
In the end, this was what he had to show for it.
After all that fighting, he had nearly died here, his men had been gravely wounded, and the thing he wanted hadn't even existed.
Thinking about it, why bother?
Xuanyuan Que waved his hand and said nothing more.
Thinking about it, why bother?
Xuanyuan Que waved his hand and said nothing more.
He offered no thanks or apology. He didn't even look at Ye Honglian again.
He simply turned around in silence and drifted away with his few men, who supported one another as they limped along.
Their silhouettes looked especially lonely and forlorn beneath the dim sky.
The wind blew.
Snow fell.
Flake by flake, the snow drifted soundlessly down, covering the bloodstained ground, the scattered footprints, and the chaotic traces of battle.
In less than an hour, this place would be a vast expanse of white again, as if nothing had ever happened.
The bloodstains, the footprints, the flashing blades, the shouts and screams...
All would be gently buried beneath the snowflakes, as though they had never existed.
Wang Xian watched Xuanyuan Que and