Misfortune and Fortune Intertwined

Bai Tang watched without saying a word, leaving Jiang Yang to handle everything himself.

She was reasonably satisfied with the boy's performance. A little bloodshed was nothing, so long as he did not waver.

Fortunately, although Jiang Yang had been briefly stunned at first, there had not been the slightest hesitation when his sword came down.

Bai Tang still treated Jiang Yang too much like a child. With a blade about to cleave his head, if he still did not know to fight back, he might as well die.

The bandits fled without a single one remaining. Jiang Yang sheathed his sword in silence, Buyu.

The old man at the temple entrance hurried over to Jiang Yang with his staff. Ignoring the blood on the ground, he dropped to his knees with a thump and pressed his forehead to the earth in thanks:

"I did not know an immortal cultivator from a great sect had arrived. This old man's life is worth little. I am sorry to have troubled you to save me, my lord. Please forgive me."

Seeing the old man kneel so readily, Jiang Yang hastily helped him up and said:

"No need for such courtesy, elder. I happened to be here, and it was no more than lifting a hand."

The old man was at least several dozen years his senior. Having him speak on his knees was far too awkward.

As the old man was helped to his feet, he felt all the more overwhelmed by the kindness.

It was not as though he had never met disciples of immortal sects. Some were fond of championing justice, but all of them held their eyes above the clouds and often acted entirely on their whims.

They applied the same sweeping judgment to every person and situation, believing