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 Song Huiya's sword tip was almost touching the man's face, only an inch away. The man in brocade robes neither retreated nor dodged, his expression showing neither fear nor humility. Hundreds of disciples on either side, and the majestic mountain gate behind him, were his source of confidence. The longer Song Huiya's sword tip hovered, the stronger his arrogance became. Even with the biting north wind carrying the chill of iron swords and the stench of blood, he still possessed an air of unparalleled self-confidence, as if the one whose fate was now tied to his own was not him. The man didn't say a word, only staring at Song Huiya. The water clock dripped, and the sun gradually sank. In the blink of an eye, the setting sun had vanished like dust. Both faces were hidden in the shadows of the night. Song Huiya's coldness and the man in brocade robes' composure became even clearer under the contours drawn by light and shadow. Disciples on both sides quietly...