"..."
Amon's accusation froze the room in an instant. The comforting warmth of the tea seemed to vanish, replaced by a biting winter that sent a shiver down his spine. The Sword Saint wore an amused smile, but beneath it lurked a deadly gaze—one sharp enough to sever a thousand heads in a heartbeat.
"How interesting… This is the first time someone dared to be so brazen with me in decades… I wonder if my reputation has reached an all-time low after my retirement..."
It was said that time forgets all.
Even though the Sword Saint had reached the pinnacle of humanity once, many assumed that he'd lost all of his power or, at the very least, was on the decline, especially after he abandoned his sword. So, it was right to assume that the Sword Saint's reputation had been dragged through the mud, and the respect he once commanded had evaporated entirely.
However, Amon shook his head to reject that.
"No, Lord Kassadin. You're still the respected and feared Sword Saint."
