In the You Clan's old residence, the last person waiting to die was You Shirang, the youngest of this generation's direct bloodline.
His father had died in the Jing-Mu War, and his uncle had been crippled in the war against Wei State.
His several elder brothers drifted about Tianjing City, all mediocre in ability.
And he, too, was mediocre.
His excessive pride, coupled with talent insufficient to match it, often left him chewing on humiliation. It had also made his heart increasingly narrow.
Now, he showed cowardice as well.
Under the masked man's merciless, cold-blooded slaughter, tears and snot streamed down his face as he retreated again and again—from the front courtyard to the central courtyard, then to the rear courtyard. He could not even stand steadily and fell to the ground... yet he still did not dare strike at his enemy!
He gripped a sword in his hand, its point aimed at the masked foe, but his hand never stopped trembling!
"What do you want... Don't come closer... Don't come closer!" he cried.
You Que came to a quiet stop before him and watched him coldly.
You Shirang was fifteen this year.
That was not a particularly great age, but neither could it be called young. He should not still have been so childish.
At fifteen, Zuo Guanglie had already been the Yellow River Champion.
When he himself had become the Yellow River Champion, he had only been sixteen.
How swiftly time flowed!
At such a moment, You Que thought of You Shirang's father, his own full-blooded elder brother. When everyone else had given up, his brother had still clung to a stubborn conviction.
He had insisted that his younger brother—the one who had once made him so proud—could still return to the peak.
At first, there had been