Ling Chuxi's voice was so cold in the quiet night and the dilapidated little courtyard. It was like a piece of ice that had been frozen for 10000 years, but it contained the intense anger of a volcano, waiting for the moment to erupt.
"Senior ... Senior Sister Ling, why are you here?" Situ kuangjian said as he trembled. He forcefully swallowed back all the depression he had been suppressing.
His hand was still pointed at Mixiu, and in his confusion, he had forgotten to retract it.
However, Ling Chuxi ignored him and only looked at the man. Her throat was choked with sobs and tears appeared in her eyes.
The man stood there like a stone statue, staring at Ling Chuxi in a daze.
His figure was no longer as straight as it used to be. He was hunched like an old man with one foot in the grave. His white hair was indescribably old and Haggard. Only between his brows, there was still a bit of his former pride.
