Fu Mo still looks as disheveled as when he accompanied Wang Anfeng and others on the Qingfeng Edge, his head down fiddling with something. Hearing the words, he just waved his hand and did not speak. The old master shook his head, stepped out of the Academy, tidied his clothes, looked at the sky, and said slowly:
"I am good at nurturing my Haoran Qi."
He paused, ruffled his white hair into a mess, and shook his head with a wry smile:
"No, no, this sentence is a bit too fake."
After thinking for a moment, he took another step forward and said:
"The wise are not perplexed, the benevolent are not worried."
"The courageous are not afraid."
This time, a vast force of heaven and earth rose from below.
In Wangxian County, the old man imprisoned in a small room took a wooden sword and walked out of the willow dike.
On Jiangnan Road, the scholar who once slew a dragon donned a green robe, holding his sword, and leapt into the Jianghu.
