After that disheveled young man left, the three peak lords exchanged glances and their figures slowly dissipated from the spot.
Ye Lan stood with her hands by her sides, staring silently at the thin tendrils of smoke rising from the offering platform, lost in thought for a long while, uncertain what was on her mind.
After a moment, she turned around, and the expression on her fair face finally returned to normal, no longer so cold, though a trace of fatigue still lingered in her eyebrows and eyes.
“I've made you laugh at me,” Ye Lan tried to force a smile, moving the corners of her lips, but it wouldn’t lift.
Back on Crane Mountain, Ye Founder’s mere name was enough to intimidate the heroes of the land.
Yet returning home to her own sect, she appeared so embarrassed and defeated that even the statue of her own master had been replaced by someone else’s.
She could almost imagine how disappointed Shen Yi must have been.
“Every family has its difficult scriptures,” Shen Yi said without much judgment, simply offering a brief consolation, then turned his gaze toward this small courtyard.
There were six rooms in total, most of which were now unused.
Rather than looking like a branch of an immortal sect, it resembled a humble countryside household, faintly hinting at some former happiness and warmth here.