The courtyard was in dead silence, but with a strange sense of peace. Just like the wind that blew across the river, the atmosphere was quiet and serene.
Recovering from shock, Mu Yunle quickly went to Meng Qi and help him in standing up. She asked with concern, "Master, master, are you alright?"
There was a horrible wound on Meng Qi's chest. Around the wound, the flesh and blood had turned black. The longsword that penetrated his heart had disappeared, but not a single drop of blood was spilling out. However, the wound was not healing either. Seeing this, Mu Yunle felt frightened and puzzled.
"I'm not dying yet," said Meng Qi calmly with a smile. Having a few wrinkles at the corners of his eyes, he looked like he had gone through the vicissitudes of life. Nevertheless, from the look in his eyes, there was something that he was trying hard to suppress.
