Cha Xiaodao felt somewhat at a loss and could only brace himself by raising his knives.
After Mr. Yang finished speaking, he lifted his right hand and clenched his five fingers. The muscles on his withered arm began to fill out bit by bit.
The leaves fell silently to the ground, the hills darkened in unison.
"Hold on a second."
Cha Xiaodao suddenly spoke up.
Mr. Yang stopped moving and looked up, asking, "What is it?"
"..."
Cha Xiaodao's expression flickered, struggling to find words. Beside him, Cao Yongchang grew anxious.
But Mr. Yang understood. He put down his staff and shook his head: "Forget it."
Having said that, he turned and left, without any hesitation.
"Mr. Yang."
Cha Xiaodao called out to him again.
Mr. Yang didn't turn back, continuing to walk: "Changing your mind is useless. You just took my sword, you had a 20% chance of surviving, now with your morale broken, it's gone."
"I have a friend, who might be able to carry on your legacy."
