Daoist Wu's state of mind had been like a stagnant pool for decades, undisturbed by the slightest ripple.
No matter what kind of opponent he faced or what danger he encountered, he could maintain absolute calm and clarity.
Yet today, a petal that had pierced through his protective aura, that drop of seeping blood, that invisible formation—all of it cast a tiny stone into his heart.
It stirred faint ripples.
Because, like Wang Xian, he feared death.
There was nothing shameful about that.
On the contrary, it was precisely because he feared death that he had lived until today, become the master of Wind and Rain Tower, and remained undefeated in this world where the strong preyed on the weak.
Those who did not fear death had long since died.
Only those who feared death would proceed cautiously, plan every step, never take risks, and never make mistakes.
But it was precisely because he feared death that he cared about that petal... If a single petal could injure him, what about the next move? Would it be even deadlier?
Since his opponent had already made a move, there were bound to be more methods to come.
So he waved away the snowflakes filling the sky, intending to withstand the blind man's next attack.
With a light sweep of his hand through the air, the drifting fragments were gathered by a gentle force into a single mass, then casually flung beyond the town.
The fragments fell onto the wilderness without a sound, like a brief flurry of flower snow.
He focused his mind and calmed his breath, waiting for Wang Xian's next move.
Yet Wang Xian did nothing.
He withdrew his spiritual awareness, lowered his head, took a kettle from the small stove beside him, and began making tea.
The small