Blazing flames soared into the sky as piercing cries echoed. The Young Master stood by the window, watching the commotion in the city, his body trembling slightly.
The scene of the Quan family being annihilated kept flashing before him. If it weren't for White holding his hand, he might have already lost his mind and found a corner to hide.
No matter how noble the Bloodline, he was just a child, no more than ten years old.
White stood beside him, looking at the somewhat chaotic city, a trace of solemnity flashing across his face.
With his Prosthetic Eye, he could see that each of these samurai who stormed in was exceptionally skilled. By Jianghu standards, they would at least be second-rate experts. And now, the samurai rushing into the city numbered at least a thousand.
"Young Master, let us return."
White looked at the Young Master, whose body was continuously trembling, and couldn't help but speak.
