The merging of memories told him that he was fifteen years old this year. He had joined the Qingyun Sect three years ago, but his talent was too low to become a Qingyun disciple.,In a dim corner of the wooden hut, there was a sword lying in a basin of icy water.,The blade drew out half an inch, a gust of cold wind sweeping out. Su Ziyao swiftly sheathed the sword again, her movements so fast that one only saw a flash of cold light.。