Upon hearing Feng Qing'an's slightly sermonizing words, a moment of confusion flashed across his face, after which he committed them deeply in his heart and refrained from attempting to draw his sword again. What soils or wrongs could there be in his surroundings? He had to accept that the sword would not be drawn for some time.
"I will heed brother's advice!"
"Lord Feng, we have reached your home!"
Feng Qingping, looking at Feng Qing'an's state, wanted to say something more, but the respectful voice of the coachman had already entered the carriage.
"We're home, let's get out of the vehicle!"
Feng Qingping pushed away the carriage curtain and got off first, while Feng Qing'an followed, clutching his sword.
The moment his sword-clad figure appeared, dozens of piercing gazes landed on him — more specifically, on the sword he cradled in his arms.
Grrr!
