When he returned from thousands of miles away, his face became less and less beautiful. When he smiled, there was still the fragrance of plum blossoms.
An Le held the oil-paper umbrella and returned to the courtyard, his heart calm.
Although he had defeated the former 18th place of the Little Sacred Ranking, Wang Qinhe, in a crushing manner, he did not feel proud.
The spring rain pattered down in the alley and echoed in the courtyard. It was quite crisp and sobering.
With a flick of his finger, the Ink Pool Sword and Green Mountain rushed out and stabbed into the tree hole of the old locust tree with familiarity and precision. They did not hurt the other bark of the old locust tree at all, causing the leaves of the old locust tree to tremble slightly.
An Le put away the oil-paper umbrella, drained the water, and placed it aside.
"I'm back."
