Fengyang, the Yang Family.
Yang Yinghao, holding a scroll, walked slowly to the shore of Lotus Pond Lake. After scanning the area, just as he was about to speak, he swallowed his words back.
At the center of the fake mountain by the shore of Lotus Pond Lake, Yang Tiansheng, dressed in a loose white training suit, stood under the harsh sun. He continuously circulated his energy, and the fierce True Qi, like blazing flames, gathered between his hands without dispersing, rising and falling intermittently...
What made Yang Yinghao swallow the words he had on the tip of his tongue was the eight gleaming swords floating above Yang Tiansheng's head, rotating fluidly around him as he manipulated them with his hands, occasionally emitting sounds that were either sharp or melodiously clear.
He stared intently at the eight swords, his gaze filled with admiration and pride, yet tinged with an indiscernible sense of loss and melancholy.
