"..."
"..."
"..."
"..."
"..."
After the commotion, silence soon fell again. The disciples of the Sword Sect seemed to have known this would happen, and their expressions remained unchanged. But everyone on the Qi Sect's side, Yue Buqun included, stared at Feng Qingyang as if they'd seen a ghost.
Whoosh—!
The autumn wind grew stronger.
It carried a deeper chill as it swept through everyone's clothes, yet it could not dispel the gloom hanging over the Qi Sect disciples, both in the arena and beyond.
The lush old pines surrounding the training ground rustled in the autumn wind, as if they, too, were whispering something.
"..."
Feng Qingyang, dressed in a simple, coarse-cloth robe, paid no heed to the criticism around him or the strange looks from the Huashan Qi Sect disciples.
He stood in the middle of the arena with his sword in hand, his hair casually tied behind his head and a few strands of white drifting in the autumn wind. He might have been eighty or ninety years old, but his posture was as straight as a pine. His free hand rested proudly behind his back.
After a long while...
When he felt the time was right, he swept his sharp gaze over the disciples who had been speaking the loudest. He silenced them with a look, then repeated his words loudly and made his position clear:
"You heard me correctly!"
"I will indeed represent the Sword Sect in today's first match!"
"Do any of you still have a problem with that?"
His words were like a massive rock thrown into a lake that had only just begun to calm, instantly raising a thousand ripples.
"This..."
"If Granduncle Feng really fights for the Sword Sect, won't that prove they're shameless bullies who pick on the young?"