Whether they were Literary Scholars or Martial Gall Warriors, once their cultivation reached a certain level, they could remain forever young, their appearance fixed somewhere in their twenties or thirties. Their bearing might shift that age up or down by a few years. So there was no way to judge a warrior's or scholar's true age by their looks alone.
In Shen Tang's words, Luo Sha's face was so tender you could squeeze water from it. At first glance, Luo Yuan had also mistaken him for some reckless junior who didn't know the limits of heaven and earth. One look later, he revised his opinion.
His eyelid twitched uncontrollably. "Where'd this old bastard come from?"
Luo Sha's answer was to send a trident flying straight at him. When the corner of his eye caught sight of his subordinates sprawled in a pool of blood, his handsome face filled with murderous coldness. "Luo Benfu, you lowlife! What gives you the right?"
With a sharp metallic clang, the trident's prongs caught on Luo Yuan's sword guard. A tremendous force, like a mountain crashing down, followed right behind. Luo Yuan's balance suddenly gave way, nearly sending him tumbling into the water. Fine, stinging pains spread through the web of his thumb as the prongs closed in on his face.
Luo Yuan sneered. "What are you to that old bastard?"
The "old bastard" he meant was naturally the "esteemed master who taught him." Luo Sha hadn't expected him to have the gall to bring up his grandfather. His anger surged, driving his martial energy into a frenzy. That already terrifying force grew threefold, and an illusory fish tail whipped out of thin air, carrying a hint of sea brine as it slammed straight into Luo Yuan.
Compared with that fish tail, Luo Yuan was