The snow fell heavily.
Two figures tumbled into the mountain forest.
"Master, Master, please rest. If you continue like this, you'll die!"
Zhuang Chen's tearful voice echoed, both master and disciple covered in ghastly blood stains, but Divine Sword Old Man was in a far worse state, riddled with frightening blood holes. The once robust and mighty old man now looked utterly bedraggled, stirring a sense of sorrow.
Watching his master in such a condition, tears fell from Zhuang Chen's eyes like rain, his heart wrenching with pain.
The night's upheaval was overly burdensome for him, a mere twelve-year-old, affecting both his mind and body. Amidst the chaos, a strand of Gang Qi nearly shattered his Sword Bone, and though he survived, his foundation was ruined, rendering him akin to a cripple.
Divine Sword Old Man smiled and patted Zhuang Chen's head:
"It's alright. I can still hold on. Once we reach the True Martial Mountain, you'll be safe."
