Whether Ye Jiuyou was willing or not, it seemed this battle could no longer be fought.0

From the moment Yue Hongling challenged the Sword Emperor, a chaotic melee involving the pinnacle forces of this world—something Huangfu Qing and the others had anticipated would leave every participant wounded—had been pared down to something far simpler. In the end, all their efforts amounted merely to building momentum, setting the stage for Zhao Changhe to speak.0

Ye Jiuyou had to admit: Encircled by these women in the Four Idols Formation, with Piaomiao standing nearby, she indeed felt apprehensive. Now, with Zhao Changhe standing across her with his blade drawn, frustration burned within her heart, yet she found herself unable to act.0

Her expression flickered between light and dark as she stared at the Dragon Bird barring her way. Only after a long while did she speak, slowly and coldly, “Do you truly wish to speak with me, or are you simply using all these excuses to block me from pursuing your brother? You know it well in your heart. After dressing up your words so prettily, would it not be simpler to just admit you feel guilty?”0

Zhao Changhe remained silent.0

Indeed. No matter how many justifications he offered, no matter how many words he used to persuade himself or her, in the end, it all boiled down to a simple truth: He was saving Han Wubing.0

Otherwise, why would he draw his blade? Was it, not an overt declaration of “If you choose not to talk to me, then I will make you talk to my blade?”0

This act of crossing blades to force negotiation was no different from Han Wubing’s sword once being raised against at Xia Chichi. And just as Zhao Changhe had been sickened by that sight, so too must Ye Jiuyou feel the same now.0

At last, Zhao Changhe sheathed his saber and lowered his gaze. His voice was soft. “I’m sorry.”0

Ye Jiuyou...0