The two elders were already turning away, exhausted and silent, their robes scorched and tattered from their violent duel. The smoke still hung thick in the air, curling around the shattered remains of the courtyard. Wei Ji stood quietly among the ruins, his expression unreadable, his robe swaying in the faint wind. He looked at the two men's backs—figures of immense power who could crush entire sects with a wave of their hands—and he spoke softly.
"Where are the two of you going?"
His voice was calm, too calm, cutting through the silence like a blade.
Both men stopped. Slowly, they turned around. The Sword Shandian Sect elder's brows furrowed, while the Demonic Sect elder gave a low chuckle, the sound dry and heavy.
"What do you want, boy?" the sword elder asked, his tone weary but edged with impatience.
The demonic elder smirked, his red eyes gleaming faintly in the dim light. "You should be hiding instead of speaking to us. Don't tell me you plan to stand in our way?"
