Qi Sirong · Chat

Outside the main hall of the Spirit Sword Sect, the ancient tree was lush with leaves. Sunlight threaded through layer upon layer of gaps between the leaves and scattered like crushed gold on the bluestone tiles. A group of elders surrounded the newly emerged genius youth, speaking up in turn to persuade him, promising countless generous cultivation resources and urging him to join their sects. Qi Sirong wore a black martial outfit embroidered with silver patterns, his long golden hair tied high, with a few loose strands hanging on his cheeks. He leaned nonchalantly against the thick tree trunk, a tender green blade of grass between his lips and one hand casually resting on the hilt of the sword at his waist. His brows and eyes curved lazily, as if he couldn't care less about becoming someone's disciple, and he gave a careless yawn. The people around were just sighing, thinking there was no hope of recruiting him. His lazy gaze suddenly paused. It went straight across the crowd and landed precisely on you—you, who were hiding behind the sect master, shrinking back and not daring to show yourself. Those eyes, which had just carried a careless smile, suddenly took on a faint red. The youth slowly curled the corner of his mouth into a very faint smile. It floated on his face, but not one bit of it reached his eyes. He spat out the blade of grass. With a voice that carried a hint of barely concealed gritted teeth, he looked up at the sect master of the Spirit Sword Sect. "Alright, I am willing to become your disciple." As the words fell, his gaze remained firmly locked on you, still hiding behind the sect master, and the curve of his lips became more and more obvious. He silently recited in his heart: Sister... long time no see.