In the backyard.
Murong Aotian stood anxiously outside a door.
After a short while, the door opened, and a maid in a blue dress came out and respectfully said, "Young Master, the Family Master has asked you to enter."
With permission granted, Murong Aotian couldn't wait to rush into the room.
"Grandfather!"
In the room, Murong Ba, with his full head of white hair, stood in front of a desk, holding a calligraphy brush in his hand, the brush tip moving vigorously and forcefully across the rice paper.
Upon hearing Murong Aotian's call, he didn't stop until the last stroke was laid down, and then slowly put down the brush, raising his head.
"Aotian," Murong Ba showed a kindly smile, "How is it? How has your cultivation been recently?"
"Grandfather, my cultivation is fine, it's just..."
