Murong Ce paid great attention to the matters concerning the Hall of Healing, taking personal charge and never delegating tasks to others.
"Nothing," Xu Sheng reported truthfully.
"Go to the White Horse Temple and see."
Having said that, Murong Ce walked out with swift, long strides.
Xu Sheng hurriedly followed.
As soon as Murong Ce emerged, the skilled fighters by his side immediately followed him.
The group mounted their horses and rode toward the White Horse Temple.
It was a black night with a bleak autumn wind, and Murong Ce's cloak billowed with a loud rustle, his sleeves fluttering uncontrollably, highlighting his commanding and outstanding presence.
His features were handsome and his build strong yet not devoid of gentle, scholarly grace—like an exiled immortal.
They had just caught sight of the white walls of the White Horse Temple when the sounds of fighting and clashing swords came from within.
A smile curled the corner of Murong Ce's mouth—it had finally begun.