Ming Kunzi heard how Wang Baole addressed him. The smile on his kind face became gentler. He seemed comforted by the fact, and it showed in his eyes. His aged voice was tinged with a certain hollowness, like an echo that had traveled across time and space and was now ringing within the Ten Thousand Art Pavilion and inside of Wang Baole's mind.
"You've realized?"
After hearing that, Wang Baole's breathing quickened. He had realized that everything before him might have been a dream, that perhaps his memories of the Federation were real. However, after hearing what Ming Kunzi had said, ripples of shock still stirred in his heart.
