Chen Ping played his sword, making a sound, and didn't bother to hide his abilities discreetly.
He had figured it out.
On the journey to Feiyun Crossing, not only would he have to face the frenzied pursuit of the Beizhou Barbarians, but also those Jianghu travelers drawn by fame or profit.
Among them, thieves might not really be thieves, and heroes might not truly be heroes.
The Jianghu might no longer be the Jianghu, and even Hann people and Hu people didn't need to be so strictly differentiated.
Right and wrong, black and white, depended solely on one's standpoint...
It was all a mess.
In such circumstances, the weak had no right to speak.
Only the sword in one's hand was the most trustworthy companion.
And it was what most made others fear, made them speak of courtesy, of right and wrong.
With the sword in his hand, its edge pointed diagonally at the ground, murderous intent emanated from him, with Qi and Blood surging, like the deep sea hiding an undercurrent...
