"It's Senior Brother's sword intent. You knew long ago, didn't you?"
"Of course. You and Senior Brother are close friends; he never hid anything from you."
On the fifth floor of the Academy's Self-Cultivation Hall, sandalwood incense curled through the air.
The fifth floor was the Academy's most vital place. Ordinary disciples were not permitted to come up.
There had originally been a low white couch and a writing desk there.
At this moment!
The carved lattice windows sifted the twilight into scattered flecks of gold, spilling them between the robes of the two men seated across from each other.
A tea table stood between them!
One was a tall, lean middle-aged man in a somewhat faded scholar's robe. Yet on him, it carried an indescribable air of noble elegance—as though clothes made the man.
His smooth black hair fell loose over his shoulders. His features were utterly ordinary, yet somehow, assembled on his face, they made him remarkably handsome.
The other was Xie Hong, with a trace of desolation in his eyes.
"Third Master, did you truly know nothing at all?"
The scholar-robed man opposite him was the Academy's highly respected Third Master.
Third Master smiled and shook his head. "Chongshan, you rarely come to the Self-Cultivation Hall. That isn't an opening for conversation."
Among the Academy's four masters, each had their own character.
Second Master spoke the least and was the coldest.
First Master had a gentle disposition. He was the peacemaker among the four and treated everyone with courtesy.
Third Master had been the direct heir of a true great clan. He had worn fine silks and eaten delicacies since childhood, and when he roamed the martial world, everything had seemed novel to him. Thus, he had developed the habit of chattering endlessly and spoke the most.