Before Yin Wuyue could finish, Yin Beiting, the Rakshasa Sect's grand elder, sneered. "So many people witnessed it with their own eyes. Are you suggesting they were all lying, Sect Master?"
"Heh! I must have been blind all these years. I never realized my niece Bai was so devoted that she would commit a grave crime to rescue Martial Niece Pei, another traitor to the sect-"
Yin Beiting's smile deepened, but his eyes were icy as he lightly clapped his hands. "You have raised two fine disciples, Sect Master. What a blessing for our Rakshasa Sect!"
Yin Wuyue's expression remained unchanged, as though he had missed the sarcasm. He said calmly, "Which is precisely why there is something strange about this."
His deep, dark eyes rested on the Blood-Hand Elders, who had been severed at the waist. Both still had a breath left in them, but no longer had the strength to howl. Their breathing was thread-thin, their faces filled with fear and resentment.
A trace of suspicion entered Yin Wuyue's eyes as he continued, "They should not have gotten far. If we pursue them now, we may still catch them. Do you really intend to waste time arguing with me here, Senior Brother Beiting?"
"I need no reminder from you, Sect Master. I only hope you will not blame me for being ruthless once I capture Niece Bai-"
Yin Beiting snorted coldly and shook out his sleeves. His robes cracked through the air as he shot more than a hundred feet away like an arrow.
He did not spare another glance for Yin Shubai's head on the ground, its eyes still open in death.
Was he heartbroken?
Of course. This had been his only son, whom he had spent more than twenty years nurturing with immense effort and resources.