It was noon before Zhao Feng emerged and went to the main hall of the courtyard residence.
Su Qingwan stayed hidden away, refusing to come out.
Lu Bing was already seated there, watching him with the hint of a smile.
"My respects, Senior Lu." Zhao Feng cupped his hands without a flicker of embarrassment.
"No need for such courtesy, Your Highness. This old man hardly deserves it," Lu Bing said, returning the salute. The atmosphere relaxed.
"Ah, to be young again," Lu Bing sighed.
"Young people certainly have stamina."
Zhao Feng, who had been drinking tea, choked slightly and gave a few light coughs to cover it up.
"Any news of the Demon Sect's young master lately?" he asked, changing the subject.
"None. Everyone in the Nine Nether Demon Sect seems to have vanished without a trace. The people at several Demon Sect strongholds investigated by the Martial Suppression Bureau have disappeared as well," Lu Bing said.
"Either your final strike gravely wounded him too, forcing the Demon Sect to lie low, or they're plotting some new scheme."
Zhao Feng said nothing. When the secret realm collapsed, he and Zhang Fan had joined forces, unleashing their respective trump cards against the young master. All three of them had probably suffered grievous injuries in the end.
Otherwise, if any one of them had escaped without serious injuries, he would never have let the other two go so easily.
In fact, Zhao Feng had unleashed two trump cards at the end: the limit-breaking skill of the Nine Yang Sword Technique and the limit-breaking skill of the Blood Soul Secret Art, attacking his opponent's body and divine soul simultaneously.
With that two-pronged assault combined with Zhang Fan's secret technique, it was hardly surprising that the young master had been badly wounded.
"Your disadvantage