Little Fire God Chi Huo!

"Interesting..."

Watching the figure drift in from outside—a young man in red robes, sharpness hidden between his brows, with withered yellow hair standing straight up like an enraged hedgehog—Ye Qingcang rested his cheek on his fist and muttered indistinctly to himself.

Two others landed alongside the young man.

One was a cold-looking youth with dark skin—not fully black, but bronze like someone who had spent too long in the sun. He held a treasured sword, with two strands of bangs hanging down at either side of his forehead. Clear defiance showed in his eyes as he stared at the red-robed youth.

The other had paler skin and looked like some Hollow Young Master from a film. However, compared to the Hollow Young Master, he was clearly full of vitality. He held a feather fan and wore a smile, though it was obviously the kind of smile that felt rather fake. Compared to the other two, he lacked quite a bit in bearing. Or rather, he lacked some of the edges that made a person human.

That was both a strength and a weakness.

Whether having edges was good depended on what kind of person one encountered.

Generally speaking, people with edges had a harder road ahead of them. Human nature tended toward moderation. No one liked young Jianghu upstarts who flaunted their sharpness, because what such people liked most was stepping on their seniors' dignity to climb upward. That was equivalent to challenging their seniors' authority, an act of rebellion in itself.

But then again, if the world were filled entirely with flatterers, no senior would like that either. Those who could truly accomplish things were often the people with edges. Such people naturally possessed a certain spirit and courage. In other words, what seniors hoped to see was the