Ye Xingyun leaned against the wall, panting heavily.
The blood on his saber had already been wiped clean. He had slid the weapon back into its scabbard and hung it at his waist. His face remained pale, and in his mind, he kept replaying the cut he had delivered and the old man's eerie smile right before he died.
The smile seemed branded into his memory, impossible to erase.
Chapter 49