Bian Ruxue looked up slightly. What she saw was the warm smile of the young man by the campfire. However, she felt a distance between them, as if they were separated by a vast expanse. This feeling quickly faded, almost like an illusion.
She thought of the sword. Her restless heart suddenly found a place to settle. She thought of reaching the peak of swordsmanship, the ultimate legendary sword technique. She softly said, "Brother Hao, you have better talent than I do. Maybe you will reach there faster than I will."
"Not necessarily," Li Hao replied, spreading his hands slightly. "You saw it too; I don't even have a sword."
Bian Ruxue was taken aback and then smiled bitterly. A swordsman without a sword was no longer a swordsman. Yet, she couldn't forget the exquisite sword technique Li Hao had displayed during his battle with Li Tiangang. How could someone with such incredible sword skills be so indifferent to swords? It seemed he had always been this way. What did Brother Hao truly care about?
At that moment, a figure silently floated down from the treetops, landing beside the campfire and interrupting Bian Ruxue's thoughts. Her confusion cleared instantly as she looked over. It was an old man in a blue robe, with white hair and beard, his hair casually tied up with a wooden hairpin.