The Sword Palace Master, Qiu Xianguang, stood alone before the ruins of Ten-Thousand-Blade Mountain, overwhelmed with sorrow at the sight. In the single day since the disaster, more than a thousand Sword Palace disciples had left of their own accord. Some had lost faith in the Sword Palace, but more feared another attack by powerful enemies and dreaded being caught up in it. Even two elders had vanished without a trace.
Although Li Chenzhou had come to the Sword Palace immediately to offer his condolences, Qiu Xianguang could sense the dissatisfaction he concealed.
Standing on Ten-Thousand-Blade Mountain, now reduced to rubble, and gazing at the severed East and West Sword Pavilions in the distance, Qiu Xianguang suddenly realized that the Sword Palace had long since been finished. It had ceased to exist the moment Lin Baitao left. All that remained was an empty shell. His years of struggling to hold that shell together had ultimately proved only one thing: he and the entire Sword Palace were nothing more than tools for others to exploit. No one cared about him, much less whether his son lived or died.
A figure appeared soundlessly behind him. Had the setting sun not stretched the newcomer's shadow across him, Qiu Xianguang would never have noticed. He turned in surprise and saw Ji Feihua. Fear instantly seized his heart. He had considered the possibility that Ji Feihua might return to take revenge on the Sword Palace, but had never imagined he would come so soon.
Qiu Xianguang had witnessed Ji Feihua's martial prowess and knew he had absolutely no chance of defeating him. With no one else present, there was no need to worry about saving face, no reason to slap his own face swollen just to pass himself off as a fat man. He sighed.