The yellow sand settled, leaving nothing but wreckage.
Monk Shenchen walked farther and farther away, leaning on his Brass Zen Staff. The Black Bureau's people fell silent too. Only Luo Ning sat on the sand, gripping the Green-Fouled Sword, nothing but bewilderment in her eyes.
"Phew..."
Ye Jingtang stood beside her and wiped the blood from his lips with his sleeve. Seeing her so lost in thought, he understood how Ning'er felt.
Last year, after reading the letter his adoptive father had left and setting out from Liangzhou, he had seemed cheerful and sunny, but the debt of eighteen years of upbringing weighed on him. The burden of avenging his adoptive father had never left his heart. Until he ascended Junshan Terrace, all he had thought about was how to defeat Xuanyuan Chao.
Yet when he finally defeated Xuanyuan Chao and fulfilled his adoptive father's last wish, he had felt no relief or joy, only a profound sense of loss.
Before that, after all, he had still been fighting for his adoptive father, walking the road of vengeance. On the day that vengeance was complete, his adoptive father truly became part of the past. Nothing he did for the rest of his life would have anything to do with the loved one who had spent so many years by his side.
Third Madam and Dongfang Liren both came over and crouched down to comfort her gently.
Meanwhile, Jiang Zhawu, who had breathed a sigh of relief, approached Ye Jingtang and asked with a frown,
"How are your injuries? Can you hold up?"
Although Ye Jingtang's face alternated between flushed and pale, clearly showing serious internal injuries, his expression was calm.
"Just minor injuries. Nothing serious."
Jiang Zhawu froze at that.
"You call these minor injuries?"
Bian Yuanlie was still standing