The spring breeze gallops swiftly like a steed, covering the sights of Chang'an in a day.
When the young man carrying a sword first embarked on his journey, all he heard were sneers and ridicule. But upon his return aboard the Xu Clan's grand ship, he heard only praises and saw faces blooming with smiles.
These people laughed with such joy, brighter than flowers, yet Yang Fan couldn't find happiness within himself.
Because within those smiles, he couldn't see a shred of authenticity.
What further frustrated him was the attitude of the Xu Clan masters.
This time accompanying Yang Fan back were the great sword masters and disciples from various sword sects in Ying City, all were sword masters he admired the most.
However, their attitude towards him was strange; respectful to the point of intimidation.
But when he asked them questions about swordsmanship, their responses were remarkably unanimous.
"The time hasn't come yet."
