Seven days later.
"Ooooh—"
The gentle breeze softly caressed the vast wilderness. Each gentle gust created delicate green ripples across the sea of grass, slowly undulating like water waves.
On a lonely hillside, two empty graves without tombstones stood, appearing especially desolate.
A young figure in green robes knelt in front of the graves, eyes tightly shut, clutching a blakish broken sword, as if merging with the world around him.
His world was silent.
He had knelt there for three full days, with countless thoughts, memories flooding in like tidal waves.
He recalled his happiest days at "Beixuan Academy," discussing Sword Dao with his teacher and the Hidden Blade Sword; each bout made his Swordsmanship advance by leaps and bounds.
At that time, Ding Ying often disturbed him. Although he was always quite impatient, reminiscing about those little moments now brought a faint smile to his lips, warming his dead heart.
