Chi Tong looked weary sitting on the chair. He slowly shut those keen, profound eyes as his body gradually slumped downwards. Even the hand supporting his cheek looked like it had contracted a little.
In the blink of an eye, Chi Tong appeared shrunken, while the heavy light-gold armour seemed to have expanded.
At that moment, the person sitting upon that chair was no longer a handsome man in his twenties. Nestled within the heavy layers of armour and clothing, was a toddler of about three to four years old.
The toddler had an exquisite appearance and looked very much like Chi Tong, except without the fierce drive and with an air of naivety. His sleeping face looked like a gift from heaven, but was colorless and lifeless like a piece of white jade.
It pained Duanmu Hongru to look upon that exquisite little face. He hurried forward to scoop up that little toddler and covered him carefully with his coat.
