Inside the carriage, unseen by others, Song Yan's eyes flickered. He had originally thought that using a Flying Sword would be extremely difficult after his Realm had fallen.
Unexpectedly, apart from the somewhat unsustainable consumption of Spiritual Energy, it was almost the same as before.
He wondered if it was because he was using a Mortal weapon.
Whoosh.
The Flying Sword was drawn, circling in the air, landing precisely and without deviation into Xie Xing's sword sheath.
"I've said all I need to say."
"Please, do as you wish."
The injured black-clothed man struggled to his feet, clutching the wound on his palm, and walked back into the crowd.
"…"
The black-clothed leader's eyes flickered.
Finally, he gritted his teeth and cupped his fists in a salute towards the carriage.
"Thank you, Immortal, for sparing our lives."
Song Yan did not respond. More words meant more mistakes; it was better to stay silent.
