Rainfall

On the same night, beneath the same torrential rain, another young swordsman's heart burned with indignation. He stepped out of his tent and waded through ankle-deep water to another tent. Just as he was about to speak, the rain stopped.

Liu Fangsheng couldn't swallow his anger.

"Deng Yuanlei, come out and talk."

This seemingly amiable senior brother had not only fled alone in a moment of crisis, but had also thrown in his lot with the impostor sect leader, Lü Mian. Liu Qingpu could bear it in silence, but Liu Fangsheng couldn't.

Deng Yuanlei lifted the tent flap and came out. He didn't look as though he'd been asleep either; his clothes were neat, and he held his sword scabbard in his left hand. With a smile, he looked up at the sky. "Junior brother, you really have no sense of timing. Wait a little longer and you won't get wet."

"Let's find somewhere quiet to talk." Liu Fangsheng suppressed his anger.

Deng Yuanlei glanced around. "Did Liu Qingpu send you? We already agreed: before we get the Old Khan King's head..."

"This has nothing to do with my father. That agreement was between him and Lü Mian. You and I have a personal score to settle."

"Heh. A personal score." Deng Yuanlei wore a mocking smile as he led the way out of camp.

Liu Fangsheng strode after him, keeping pace at his side.

Three Qingcheng Sect disciples were on watch. Liu Fangsheng casually asked, "Has the Dragon King's army left?"

"Just now," one of the disciples replied. The Qingcheng Sect camp was not far from the Kongtong Sect's, and in the clear moonlight after the rain, they could make out the camp opposite. They could even hear the Dragon King's army riding away.

"Mm. Let's go ask what