Night had deepened, and the house had quieted down. Faced with questions from his entire family, young and old, Yan Beitong could hardly tell the truth. He brushed them off with a few vague remarks, saying it had only been a false alarm, and sent everyone away.
Lian Youming was staying in a room on the second floor, where a stick of specially made incense burned on the floor to repel mosquitoes.
Looking at the moon outside his window, he climbed onto the roof out of habit, sat cross-legged facing the moon, and began his breathing exercises.
There still seemed to be knocking and conversation downstairs. Apparently, uncles and cousins from the Yan family had come to help, quite a few of them. But seeing that Yan Beitong was all right, they soon went home.
Gradually, after a few bouts of children crying, the entire little house fell completely silent and sank into the darkness.
He gazed at the moon, circulating his inner breath as he considered the events of the evening.
A formidable enemy was coming.
He was so excited that every finger trembled.
The Taiji Gate might be strong enough, but Lian Youming looked forward even more to the great enemy he would face afterward, the man he had waited for and pursued for so long.
Xue Hen.
If he made it through this encounter, Xue Hen would probably come looking for him before long.
This was a warrior's intuition, as well as something born of his understanding of that martial arts madman, Xue Hen.
And by now, Lian Youming felt he could already make out the backs of people like Xue Hen and Gong Wuer. He was no longer the greenhorn who had first entered the martial world, unable to come anywhere close to them. Now he