Raindrops the size of peas fell from the sky, pattering loudly on the roof tiles.
Fan Tai stood in front of the window sill, gazing at the city shrouded in rain, lost in deep thought.
He suddenly asked, "Uncle Master, what do you think I should do now?"
As soon as Fan Tai spoke, a gray-robed elder with chicken skin and crane hair silently appeared beside him and responded coldly, "What to do? Either fight the barbarians or abandon the foundation here and leave; what else can you do?"
"Fight?"
Fan Tai couldn't help clenching his fists, angrily saying, "With what do I fight the barbarians? Rely on the disciples on the island, or a rabble of outsiders?"
"Uncle Master, the Great River Gang has already sided with the Wuqi Tribe, plus the mountaineers, we have no chance of winning!"
The gray-robed elder snorted, "If you can't win, then leave."
"Leave?"
