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Life is always unpredictable, with one crisis hardly settled before another arises. A boy hurriedly ran to Feng Yebai, whispered something into his ears, and then scurried away once more.
Chu Yi found the scene all too familiar. It reminded him of the time at the Tianyan Sect when Xiao Hong had also received a message from a boy. This time, however, Feng Yebai's emotions were much more agitated than Xiao Hong's had been.
Feng Yebai slammed his hand down onto the wooden table beside him. The meticulously carved mahogany table was instantly reduced to fragments. Feng Yebai picked up his teacup and drained it in one gulp, then with a trembling right hand, he hurled the cup onto the ground with force.
"Smash—"
The crisp sound made everyone stand up. Feng Yebai's body shook, and another elder beside him quickly reached out to steady him. Feng Yebai closed his eyes and after a long time, his lips trembling, said, "The relics of the ancient battlefield… have been destroyed…"
