Yan Shutong knelt before the white-haired old man and kowtowed respectfully several times.
The white-haired old man seemed to sense something. A golden flame silently ignited on his body, and his form instantly turned to ash and scattered.
The body of a dignified Dharma Cultivator had turned to dust just like that. It was a testament to the brutality of the battle he had fought, with only a shred of spirituality left behind, waiting for his descendants to arrive.
Fang Cheng had long since noticed this and said nothing more. Instead, he watched the giant bronze statue in the center of the hall with great interest.
The Demon Fire Golden Saber, which had been resting on the old man's knees, now floated in the air as if it had a spirit of its own, trembling slightly and emitting a low hum.
"My lord, this saber..."
Kneeling in the hall, Yan Shutong turned her head to look at Fang Cheng.
Fang Cheng said coolly, "Since it belongs to your Yan Family, you should keep it for yourself."
