The swordsman, or rather the man called Gu Qingying, silently stood up, gazing intently at the old man.
His right hand had already reached for the hilt of the long saber he carried on his back. With the reputation of the Lonely Goose Saber, a strike from this saber would end the lives of ninety-nine percent of the martial artists in Jianghu.
But, in the end, he did not draw his saber; instead, he sat back down, looking utterly dejected.
"Anger should not provoke the sword, now I'm rather curious to hear your story," said the old man.
The old man passed over a roasted bun.
Gu Qingying took it without a word of thanks and ate it.
