The mountaintop was desolate. At this moment, the clouds in the sky parted, and sunlight bathed the earth once again, even raising the surrounding temperature significantly.
Roger looked up, scanning the area, but all he saw were the few people before him.
"The others have all fled."
Michihiro Morita let out a sigh.
At this moment, his mental state had returned to normal, though his eyes were full of exhaustion.
Roger wasn't surprised. Sword Master Cold Crow never truly cared much about the Sword Pavilion, and Yatagarasu Akiryu was far too impulsive by nature—the cohesion of the Sword Pavilion wasn't strong.
With all the recent upheavals, combined with the collapse of the mountain, how could anyone else have stayed here?
On the distant peak, a striking sight emerged, causing Roger to pause slightly. He saw an ancient cherry tree, lush with branches and leaves, its blossoms in full glory.
