The wooden statue of a deity in the Taoist temple was long gone, likely burned by beggars for fuel. But beneath the altar lay a child beggar, barely alive, motionless, perhaps counting down the days until his death - this was the reason the beggar had hesitated before.,Hundreds of iron feathers, each wielding a blade, roared in, every flash of steel a different sword style, some ferocious, some insidious.,Gong Yang Bai's silent gaze watched all of this, the next breath, was blood frozen.。