On the day their engagement was called off, Liu Qingyuan crushed his jade pendant underfoot.
“Break your right hand, and the engagement is over.”
Tao Yan lay on the ground, his mouth full of blood.
His entire clan was laughing.
Laughing at the useless collateral relative whose spiritual meridians were blocked, and at his delusion of reaching for a swan when he was no more than a toad.
Then
The broken shard of iron against his chest grew hot.
An old drunkard’s voice burped inside his head:
“You’re as dumb as a pig. Get up.”
The next moment, Tao Yan raised his head.
He pointed with one finger, and sword energy burst forth.
The sword at Tao Hu’s waist was knocked flying by an invisible force, ringing out with a sharp clang.
The whole crowd fell silent.
Liu Qingyuan’s face changed.
The Third Elder’s crushing pressure bore down on him. Tao Yan stood, blood and spittle running from the corner of his mouth, and smiled.
“I accept the engagement. But this hand? I’m afraid I can’t oblige.”
From the woodshed to the demon’s lair.
From a useless collateral relative to lord of the Sword Domain.
From being trampled underfoot to cleaving through the ancient sword clan’s blockade with a single strike.
The old drunkard said, “You’re softhearted. You won’t get far.”
Tao Yan replied, “Then I’ll go somewhere you can’t see.”
