The slaughter in the square was drawing to a close.
The last Tiejiang Gang disciple's scream was cut short. Blood gushed from the wound on his neck as his body slid limply into a pool of blood.
The masters from the Seven Sects sheathed their weapons, each one gasping for breath.
Some sat cross-legged and took pills to heal their wounds. Some silently wiped the blood from their weapons. Others spoke in low voices about the battle that had just occurred.
The air was thick with the reek of blood, mingled with a sickening, charred odor.
Fang Han sheathed his sword and stood at the edge of the square, looking toward the sect's main gate.
He didn't choose to rest for the moment; he hadn't expended much energy in the previous fight.
Before long, the figures of Hui Ming and Liu Meiniang appeared at the top of the stone steps.
Chen Tianyuan hurried forward to greet them, cupping his hands in a fist as he asked:
"Master Hui Ming, were you able to capture... Yan Wuji?"
