Ye Wenhao's pupils constricted when Yun Lintian asked about his inheritance. His grip tightened around his moonlit sword instinctively before relaxing with a bitter smile.
"Senior's insight is formidable," he said, bowing deeply. "This junior is indeed the inheritor of the Primordial Sword God."
Qingqing wrinkled her nose from Yun Lintian's shoulder. "Big Brother Yun, it stinks here!"
She waved her tiny hand, summoning a gale that scoured the battlefield clean of blood and gore in an instant.
The surrounding cultivators gaped. Even the wind spirit's casual display surpassed their understanding. Their eyes then darted to the "white cat" on Yun Lintian's other shoulder, wondering what terrifying power she might conceal.
Ye Wenhao's throat bobbed as he gestured toward an intact pavilion. "Senior, please."
Inside the private chamber, Ye Wenhao poured tea with trembling hands. The cups trembled slightly as he offered them to Yun Lintian and his two companions.
