"She can actually reclaim her Arts!" Yun Huanling murmured softly.
But Lan Fang Ziyi, standing beside him, heard every word.
Even a trace of helplessness flickered through Xia Jue's eyes.
Was it really a good idea for his little junior sister to show off her new insight so openly?
The battle ended, and Su Jiu had undoubtedly claimed victory.
But as she passed Duan Song, she heard him plead quietly, "If the Water Moon School does something wrong one day, could you spare the lives of its Nascent Soul disciples?"
Su Jiu paused briefly, then walked away without looking back, leaving him with only one sentence. "That will depend on how far your evil deeds have gone."
Duan Song watched Su Jiu's retreating figure, his feelings inexplicably tangled.
But when he saw his fellow disciples rushing toward him, he immediately reined in those extraneous emotions.
With Su Jiu's match setting a jewel-like standard, the other disciples suddenly found the matches that followed rather dull.
After all, no one else could wield low-level Arts with the power of high-level Arts, nor could anyone else deliver a performance that made their eyes light up.
From that day onward, the name Su Jiu was destined to remain in many people's hearts.
Time hurried past, and night fell again in the blink of an eye.
Clouds drifted back and forth across the night sky, occasionally veiling the moonlight and leaving the ground beneath alternately bright and dark.
Windblown sand also swept past, making the paper windows rustle noisily.
Ming Yun had intended to enter meditation, but the irritating sounds outside finally forced her to open her eyes.
Of course, the weather outside was merely an excuse for her restless state. In truth, her heart was still unsettled by what she had witnessed during