There were millions upon millions of cultivators in the world.
They set foot on the road to longevity, seeking to leave no thought unresolved.
Heavenly treasures, earthly riches, kindness and grudges, love and hatred.
Fighting and killing were inevitable, especially for martial artists and military cultivators.
Life-and-death combat was the most beneficial form of cultivation for both.
But few cultivators were willing to provoke Sword Cultivators.
Because those fellows turned everything into a fight to the death.
Over the tiniest fart of a matter, they insisted on leaving no thought unresolved and keeping their sword hearts pure.
So they could not swallow any indignity.
As the saying went, with a sword in hand, a Sword Cultivator needed neither to watch anyone's expression nor to curry anyone's favor.
And Zhang Song was a pure Sword Cultivator.
The young master in brocade said coldly, "Get lost!"
Zhang Song slapped the table and sprang to his feet.
With tremendous backbone, he declared, "Fine, I'll get lost!"
With that, he picked up his noodles.
He went outside, squatted in a corner, and began eating.
Li Ping'an poured himself a cup of wine and took a sip.
He picked up a piece of meat and ate it unhurriedly.
Inwardly, he judged: Following his heart-straight into cowardice.
The young master in brocade snorted disdainfully.
The others in the inn also had the sense to walk outside.
The young master in brocade was named Li Ziao, and his father was an eighth-grade Qi Refining Practitioner who controlled a True Jade Tower.
The Li Lineage was also an illustrious aristocratic clan.
Even if they disliked him, most people were unwilling to offend the Li Lineage, which controlled a True Jade Tower.
Just then, the purple-faced man set down his bowl and chopsticks.
"Thank you, I'm full! The person