After he finished speaking, he suddenly realized that after all this time, he still didn’t know the young lady’s name!

“Miss, you still haven’t told me—what is your name?”

Emma Sullivan sat on the other side, took out a plain handkerchief, and carefully wiped the bloodstains from the blade of Frost Snow Bright.

After cleaning her sword, Emma Sullivan immediately entered meditation, shutting out Charles Morgan’s voice.

She had no intention of telling Charles Morgan her name. She’d already said she hadn’t saved him; once she finished replenishing her spiritual power and left, she would pretend nothing had happened today.

Deceiving oneself—nothing more.

An hour later, Emma Sullivan slowly opened her eyes.

She hadn’t fully replenished her spiritual power. The spiritual energy of a land nourishes its living beings; if she absorbed it all, it would be a catastrophe for the creatures here.

Charles Morgan had been paying close attention to her. When he saw Emma Sullivan awaken, he put away his spear and strode over in long, quick steps.

The crimson silk sash at his waist fluttered, as striking as the red tassel on a spear tip.

Emma Sullivan’s gaze involuntarily fell again to the youth’s waist, where a sword hung.

“You’re awake, Miss. While I was standing guard for you just now, I noticed some spiritual power leaking from your side. Did you get injured during the fight?”

This young lady had saved him, even giving him a spirit-recovering pill. If she’d also been hurt because of him, how could he ever repay her?

Emma Sullivan thought for a moment and understood what Charles Morgan meant. After she absorbed spiritual energy, it circulated through her body, releasing some cold air, so she also expelled some pure spiritual power to protect the nearby living creatures.

Matters of cultivation like this, Emma Sullivan naturally wouldn’t tell Charles Morgan. She shook her head and said, “I’m not hurt.”

But Charles Morgan stood guard for her?

Emma Sullivan looked him up and down, noticing that the youth had changed into a white robe, his long hair tied up again with a white silk ribbon. His features were sharp and elegant, like a painting, with only the splash of crimson at his waist catching the eye, bright as a lotus.

On the surface, he certainly looked impressive, but anyone with some cultivation could sense that he was empty inside, without a trace of spiritual power.

And yet, he was standing guard for her?

What a joke!

“I’m leaving now. Take care of yourself!” If someone was being hunted, they must have some treasure on them. Emma Sullivan had no desire to get involved.

Their Sword Sect and Queyue Mountain had little contact, let alone any friendship.

A hand grabbed her sleeve.

“Miss, your cultivation is strong. Could you escort me somewhere?” Charles Morgan was a favored son of heaven, never having asked anyone for help before. Now, asking for the first time, he felt a bit embarrassed.

He pressed his lips together and said, “Just now, I also stood guard for you. Could you, for the sake of that, consider…”

Queyue Mountain would surely repay this young lady’s kindness.

And her spirit-recovering pill.

Emma Sullivan was taken aback, then burst out laughing.

She was as beautiful as a new moon, her looks extraordinary. When she smiled, her eyes curved, making her seem easy to talk to.

Charles Morgan felt a surge of hope.

The next moment, he was doused with cold water.

“Not considering it!” The girl smiled, but her words brooked no argument.

She yanked her sleeve back, performed a sword technique, and Frost Snow Bright flew from her waist to hover before her.

She still had to find her third senior brother!

Seeing that she really wasn’t going to help him, Charles Morgan grew anxious, racking his brain for something to persuade her. Suddenly, the flying sword at his waist buzzed twice.

It was a sword, but ever since it had fallen into his hands, it had never been drawn. Seeing Frost Snow Bright soaring freely, it was a bit displeased.

Charles Morgan suddenly understood—if you want to keep a sword cultivator, you need a treasured sword. And he just happened to have one.

He said, “I have a sword. Could I offer it as payment for your protection along the way?”

Emma Sullivan was a little tempted.

She had indeed been eyeing Charles Morgan’s sword for a long time—not to take it for herself, but just to have a look.

What a sight it would be to see a treasured sword drawn.

Earlier, she hadn’t dealt with those Foundation Establishment cultivators because she wanted to see that sword, but unfortunately, Charles Morgan never drew it in the end.

Emma Sullivan hesitated for a moment, then happily jumped down from her flying sword.

\^O^/!!!

Charles Morgan took the long sword he always carried from his waist and handed it to Emma Sullivan without a trace of reluctance. “This sword should be of high quality. What do you think, Miss?”

Emma Sullivan found it odd. “Aren’t you a sword cultivator?”

He was from the Taixuan Sword Sect—how could he not be a sword cultivator?

If he was, he couldn’t possibly not know that this was a sword any sword cultivator would dream of. Most sects couldn’t produce a second one like it. How could he bear to offer it as payment?

Charles Morgan replied calmly, “I’m actually not a sword cultivator. I’ve never drawn this sword, so I don’t really know its true quality, but it’s definitely top grade. You can rest assured, Miss.”

Though he wasn’t a sword cultivator, he was from the Taixuan Sword Sect, so his sense for swords was accurate.

Top-grade swords all have a temper. Charles Morgan wasn’t a sword cultivator, so the sword was unwilling to be drawn by him. Emma Sullivan could understand that.

She took the sword with one hand and immediately felt the sword energy surging from it. Was it… happy?