The dust had barely settled.
The sky still shimmered with residual qi, and the scent of ozone lingered in the air. Cultivators across the city were still talking, still stunned, still replaying the final clash between Feng Yun and Liang Fei in their minds.
But Feng Yun stood calmly, his spear resting against his shoulder, his robes fluttering gently in the breeze. His expression was unreadable — neither proud nor arrogant, just quietly resolute.
Just as he was about to go inside his house, two figures descended from the sky.
Their presence was subtle, but the pressure they carried was unmistakable. Sword intent radiated from their bodies like invisible blades, sharp enough to make the air tremble.
The crowd parted instinctively.
These were not ordinary cultivators.
They were elders of the Eternal Sword Sect.
The first was Elder Jian Wu — tall, lean, with silver hair tied in a warrior's knot. His eyes were calm, but piercing.
