Although Song Yunshu had been Dawn Rain Peak's foremost disciple and had perished while attempting to attain Divine Powers, she had never reached the Purple Mansion realm. Thus, no grand funeral was held; only those concerned were notified and invited to pay their respects.
Aside from the considerable stir when her Lineage's Descendants came to the Sect to receive her remains, the entire peak merely hung white mourning cloth for three days.
None of this affected Jiang Yang. From the moment he returned from the mountain, he shut himself away in his little Courtyard.
Though the journey had not been particularly tiring, he still rested for a few days before strolling to the cliff's edge with his hands behind his back to gaze into the distance.
Everything in the distance remained as it had been, yet when he turned around, all was quiet and desolate.
The moon-white spirit-clear elm swayed in the Courtyard, making only a soft rustling sound. Jiang Yang gave an almost imperceptible sigh.
There had scarcely been any voices in the little Courtyard before, and now, without Bai Tang and Qing He's chatter, it felt even more deserted.
The emptiness at his waist hinted at Jiang Yang's present state of mind. He lowered his gaze and reached back to draw a slender Spirit Sword.
The sword was a lustrous green without any radiance, harboring a sense of unfathomable depth. Its spine rose slightly, and not a trace of wood grain remained visible. It was Spirit Oak, the Spirit Sword Jiang Yang had not used in a long time.
"Sorry. I've neglected you."
Jiang Yang gazed at the blade and murmured softly.
Bzz...
Before his words had faded, a buzzing rang out, as though answering him. After such a long period of nurturing, it possessed greater spirituality than