Hat was perhaps not an emotion, but a kind of pain!
From the most extreme pain was born the most extreme hatred. Hatred for the sudden tragedy, hatred for the misfortune that had abruptly befallen the Su Family, hatred for his own fear in the face of danger!
Su Xiuxing stood with his mouth open, not knowing what to say; his hand raised, not knowing what to do. Shamefully, he retreated, while his useless Daoist Art merely spun once in his palm—
He was like a man holding only a cup of water while his home burned before him in a raging inferno.
He knew he ought to do something—perhaps throw that cup of water into the flames—but he understood it would be meaningless.
One moment ago, he had been commenting on the Yellow River Prodigies and criticizing the great affairs of the world; the next, he was mourning the destruction of his own home.
Forget doing anything—before the power of that ever-expanding beam of light, he could not even flee the danger and go on hating, because the light had caught up to him too—
His vision was filled with boundless white. For a moment, he almost thought that was the color of the Source Sea.
But then a corner of a Daoist robe drifted down before his eyes.
It was a checkered Daoist robe of black lines on a white ground, like a chessboard he had never been qualified to touch. It came crashing down over him, covering him from head to toe... leaving him dazed and stunned, yet also catching the heavenly light that had swept across the entire new Su Family residence.
Beneath the falling Daoist robe stood a tall, slender back.
From behind that figure, Su Xiuxing saw a pale yellow-green embroidered bronze scabbard extending