Zhao Jing sneered. “Very good! Since you’re a little Valley demoness, there’s no need to quibble! We’re not letting you come and go as you please!”

Before he was quite finished, a strong gale attacked him from behind. He dodged, flustered, and turned to look. It was Ye Baiyi — he was holding Dragon’s Back, which wasn’t unsheathed, yet had still forced him back from that swing.

The man didn’t look at him, only speaking to Cao Weining. “The friend you just talked about is a brat with the surname Zhou, right? Take me to find him, and I’ll send you both elsewhere.”

Everyone was shocked by his act, watching blanking as he was about to bring Gu Xiang and Cao Weining away without ever getting off his horse.

“You dare to leave, Cao Weining?” Mo Huaiyang finally spoke up.

Cao Weining’s back stiffened. He stood, turned, and opened his mouth. “Shifu…”

“You go with them,” the other said coldly, “and from now on, you will not be a part of my Qingfeng Sword Sect. Fall into the way of evil, and in the future… I will send myself down the same path of principle that all martial artists do, and we will be irreconcilable!”

Cao Weining’s form seemed to way, and Gu Xiang quickly reached out to support him.

“Think this over well,” Mo Huaiyang said. “Don’t allow one mistake to lead to infinite sorrow.”

Cao Weining stood there, blank, for a very, very long time. Gu Xiang felt him grasp her hand for a split second, release it, then hold it even tighter. “Shifu, I pledged to a friend that for my entire life, from that moment until my death, counting every single second, there would never be any time when I would let Ah-Xiang down… you’ve taught me since childhood to do what I say I will, and do it to completion. I can’t eat my words in regards to her family.”

Mo Huaiyang looked ashen. He clenched his jaw for a long while, then coldly laughed, giving off three successive ‘good’s. He abruptly turned, as if he didn’t want to look at him anymore.

Cao Weining knelt; Gu Xiang frowned, hesitating a bit, then knelt alongside him. The former kowtowed three times in Mo Huaiyang’s direction, and there was an audible sound every time his forehead landed on the ground, blood promptly showing up on it. “This disciple is unfilial!” he cried out, eyes shot red.

After that, he turned to Mo Huaikong and kowtowed thrice again, gritting his teeth, yet unable to say a word. Mo Huaikong peered at him, antsy and wanting to say something, but also feeling like everything he could say would be wrong. All he could do was curse furiously. “Shit! What is this?!”