Watching Mu Shanxue leave, Wang Anfeng stood still in his original spot.
The surroundings were quite quiet, yet at this moment, he inexplicably felt a bit oppressed. As the sky grew darker, suddenly several sparrows fluttered across the murky heavens, dropping a few feathers; the deep autumn was inherently chilly, especially in the lonely twilight when no one was around.
Wang Anfeng suddenly felt a chill, raised his hand to tighten his clothes, and exhaled.
His breath condensed into a white mist in the cool air and then dissipated again.
Wang Anfeng was slightly distracted here, thinking about what Mu Shanxue had said, that the Jianghu of Fufeng would eventually lose its original tranquility. He had mentioned that Yi Nanping was the one to break the stalemate, but Wang Anfeng also thought of the day he went to Qingfeng Edge, where he saw the Great Elder's sword pierce through the sky.
Since that day, the Jianghu had already been turbulent.