"Are you Lou Fu?"
Chen Heng turned his gaze toward him and cupped his hands as he spoke.
The one who had raised his hand to recall the sword light was a cold-looking youth in green robes. His face was white as paper, his lips so pale they scarcely had any color, and his slender frame resembled a lone bamboo growing from a crack in the rocks. He looked as though he had spent years bedridden, with an air of sickness that would not disperse.
Yet his eyes shone like brilliant stars, bright and spirited.
Sharp light streamed and swirled within them, like a treasured sword already drawn from its sheath, its edge irresistible. It might remain still, but once it moved, it would kill!
"To remain unruffled in mortal danger-with courage like that, no wonder you dared venture into an Omen Cultivator's territory yourself to rescue people. You truly are a man of righteousness."
Lou Fu stepped forward and likewise cupped his hands in return.
"A pleasure to meet you. I am indeed Lou Fu."
Chen Heng smiled slightly. "We are of the same kind. How could I bear to watch them become livestock and blood food raised by Omen Cultivators? It was only what I ought to do. You, on the other hand, Brother Lou, perform charitable deeds to relieve suffering despite being a Yin Spirit. That commands respect."
At these words, Lou Fu's expression grew solemn. He lowered his gaze slightly and bowed toward the distant north before speaking.
"When a master has work to be done, his disciples shoulder the toil... Though I was unable to become True Lord Qiao's disciple, I have benefited from his teachings and listened to his lectures. He taught me morality and instructed me in sword techniques. His kindness weighs as