Silence!
Under the dark clouds, the sound of pattering rain reverberates.
On the uneven gray stone steps, puddles form, reflecting the faces of many people.
Breathing paused, somewhat holding their breath.
Or perhaps they open their eyes wide, surprised by his hardness.
Zhou Wuren opened his mouth wanting to persuade, the white-haired old man opposite and Master Wang both furrowed their brows.
"Master Chen, do you know what your words represent?"
Talking about the Northern Martial Arts World, isn't this akin to severing ties?
"I don't need to know."
With a plain face, Chen Feng meets his gaze.
"Whether it's the Holy Sect or Yang Wudi."
"Today, I know only one thing."
Stepping out slowly, Zhao Tingxiao beside him was first taken aback, but soon followed, holding a black umbrella.
"Rest in peace."
Tap tap.
As the words land, footsteps are heard.
