"We won?" Xing Wu asked with a smile.
"We won, that bastard Black Robe has vanished into thin air," Little Feng affirmed confidently.
With the young man's confident response, a smile finally appeared on Xing Wu's lips. He tilted his head upwards, gazing at the sky—the mottled sunlight casting an exceptionally serene look upon his face.
"Father, I have avenged you!" This burly man, now tear-streaked like a child, had finally avenged the deep-seated hatred for his father.
If his father had not been injured, he might very well have been a figure who commanded respect and fear, according to his teacher's evaluation.
It was only then that he realized that his father, who he had always thought weak, had such a glorious past, and could have been one of those ruling over the Demon Clan.
But in order to protect the treasures of the Demon Court, for ideals and beliefs close to his heart, he chose to live incognito, gritting his teeth and persevering.