Qin Ruan hurried with Huo Yunjiao to the guest room, where only the dying Yan patriarch and the still-unconscious Yan Xirong laid in bed. Dr. Chen tactfully made himself scarce.
The old patriarch leaned feebly against the bed, his turbid and stubborn eyes expectantly gazing at the doorway.
As Qin Ruan came into view, those murky eyes blossomed with astonishing light.
"Anyu..."
The old man voiced the name of his youngest daughter.
Shock contracted Qin Ruan's pupils, as she clearly saw a thick, dark mist of dark Qi enveloping the other's body. She quickly stepped beside the bed, ignoring the peculiar pain in her own body.
She couldn't understand why such a change had taken place in just a few hours, "What's happened to you?"
When the Yan patriarch saw Qin Ruan approaching, clarity returned to his mind, and knowing she was not his youngest daughter, the affection in his eyes only deepened.
A pallid smile appeared on his ashen face, "Lord Yama calls, one's death approaches."
