For most disciples who were at the peak of the Mortal Realm, finishing their lessons early was naturally a good thing, so after hearing Cao Changqing's words, they happily took their leave.
The practice field soon became empty, and that was when the person hiding in the shadows finally stepped out.
The newcomer had a face seven parts similar to Cao Changqing's but carried the temperament of a vagabond.
Messy long hair that hadn't been tended to for who knows how long, tangled and stuck together, with bits of food trapped in the shabby beard.
The defeatism in those eyes, of having given up on oneself, made Cao Changqing almost unable to recognize him—was this really his brother who was always so brimming with confidence, no matter the situation?
"Snap!"
The Ghost King Gold Medal was thrown by the disheveled man, but whether it was too weakly thrown or for some other reason, it fell to the ground mid-flight.
