Jian Wushuang began to reminisce.
The other person might have been just an ordinary mortal at some point in time. There was no need to fabricate stories to deceive them, especially in this desolate place. Now, in the deep of the night, with a jug of wine in hand, Jian Wushuang started recounting the events of his childhood.
It was during his days at the Sword Pavilion...
In that year, he was only 18, still just a young noble.
In the flickering candlelight, Thirteen Niang listened intently, and the play of light cast a hint of red on her face.
Jian Wushuang started narrating from the age of 18, recounting the grievances and entanglements of the Sword Pavilion.
Of course, he downplayed some of the more mystical abilities, shaping the story like an extended martial arts novel.
His story unfolded like an epic wuxia tale.
Thirteen Niang became more and more enthralled as she listened.
