"Calm down, both of you... we're all on the same side. Why take things this far?"
With swords drawn and bows bent, Qu Yong hurried to intervene. He finished speaking breathlessly, then broke into a fit of coughing.
Yun Ying rubbed Qu Yong's back, her face full of worry. "Junior Brother Qu... you look terrible. Where were you hurt?"
Dongfang Jian's expression was sinister. He swept a cold glance over Yun Ying and Qu Yong, then glared fiercely at Liu Chuang, like a vulture choosing someone to devour.
"There are swords between heaven and earth, but they do not slay ants... I respect the Twenty-Seventh Master, so I'll let you off this time..."
Liu Chuang grinned and stamped his foot, sending a cluster of ants beside his straw sandals flying, then strode forward.
Dongfang Jian cast an icy glance at Qu Yong before looking toward Liu Chuang's retreating back, his gaze as cold and sharp as a blade.
They emerged from the Sword Tomb Secret Realm into brilliant sunshine and fresh air. In the distance, the peaks of Qionglong Mountain rose and fell, green as far as the eye could see. Flowers of every color filled the mountain hollows, and trailing vines grew everywhere. Compared with the realm's dark, gloomy scenery, everything seemed vivid and bright.
Outside the Vertical Sword Sect's gates, the many cultivators who had been waiting for ages craned their necks in anticipation. At the sight of Qu Yong's group returning, the crowd stirred, everyone stretching to find their fellow disciples or friends among those returning in triumph.
Little did they know that the roads of the martial world were long, and blades had no eyes. Those they waited for might never return...
Meanwhile, cultivators who had gained something in the Sword Tomb Secret Realm began trading