In the midst of the chaotic clash of swords and blades, Tao Mian's face was illuminated to a pure white.

He was always like the untouched moon suspended in the sky, pure as snow, never tainted by the mundane world. Rong Zheng clutched that tree branch as if it were a lifeline, pulling her out of the quagmire of the past time and again.

"Little Tao..."

"I initially planned to let you vent your anger," Tao Mian said, supporting his disciple's uninjured shoulder and guiding her around to avoid the cold sword from the right front. "If I don't allow you to fight, you'll definitely throw a tantrum when we return."