Fang Xuan didn't say a word and just walked away.
He wasn't in the mood to argue, nor did he feel the need to join their group.
While traveling with the caravan might have been faster and more comfortable, he would rather be alone than deal with rude, dumb people.
"Stop!" one of the caravan guards suddenly shouted.
The voice belonged to a bulky man with a large saber in hand.
He had a muscular build with short, slicked-back dark hair. His worn leather vest and faded tunic hinted at many battles.
However—
He didn't look like a cultivator, which was no surprise; few people could become one.
Most belonged to sects and rarely left without important missions.
Even Cui Fang and Tao Bai were in town only for the ceremony; they rarely visited without a good reason.
"We can't let you go!" he shouted, his eyes narrowing as he glanced at Fang Xuan's robe.