Xia Yuanba left with his back facing Xia Qingyue. His pace was unusually slow, but they were incredibly firm and unwavering. He didn’t bring anything; he didn’t even bring a single yellow profound coin. No one knew where he was going, perhaps he, himself, did not know either. Even less people knew and understood the sadness, pain, blame, and remorse that filled this sixteen year old youth’s heart… as well as his thirst for power…
Xia Qingyue didn’t chase after him, and only dazedly stared at Xia Yuanba’s parting figure. Through her hazy gaze, she saw the usually cheerful, carefree, little brother who was always full of passion, unyieldingly grow up.
“Yuanba, take care of yourself. I’ll wait for you to return.” Xia Qingyue lightly whispered. She pressed her hand to her chest and closed her eyes: “Yuanba… thank you for teaching me how to be strong…”