The youth entered Red Maple Hall with a bewildered and anxious air, only to freeze on the spot.
"Sect... Sect Leader..."
He watched with wide eyes as the Red Maple Lake Sect Leader, a figure he could only ever look up to from afar, was now being held by the neck, strangled as easily as if he were gripping a chicken.
"This..."
The Sect Leader, who had been the object of his admiration and considered a legend in Martial Arts, was now being held by the neck by a person clad in a black robe, hanging with feet off the ground, and both legs twisted and broken, with blood dripping from his toes.
Inside the hall, there were also several disciples' blood-stained corpses lying on the floor.
At that moment, the boy gazed on silently, beginning to understand what the old man in the Daoist robe had said.
Perhaps, it truly was better to be a common man far from strife than to be a Cultivator destined for a tumultuous fate?
