"I'll remember your gift of clothes," the handsome young man said softly. "I won't kill the two of you today. You can leave."
"Who created the Monarch Art?" Braydon Neal asked before leaving.
"There are only inheritors of the Monarch Art, not creators!" Flynn Yin replied unhappily.
In the past, there were only inheritors, and no one knew who the original creator was.
The Monarch Art dated back to the origins of the human race.
Over centuries, ancient texts had been lost and damaged, leaving its origins shrouded in mystery.
The handsome young man glanced at Braydon's departing figure and suddenly added, "Inheriting the Monarch Art, we will inevitably cross paths in battle on the road ahead. You are too weak today."
"In the future, I'll be waiting for you on that road," he continued. "Remember, my surname is Trevon Weimer."
Braydon heard these words as he walked away. "The same name as my son," he thought with a faint smile.
