The cultivator looked down at the sketch, then back up at him, his eyebrows furrowed deeply.
"Hold out your hand for me to see!"
"Yes!"
Xu Mu complied obediently, extending his hand which was delicate and fair, rivaling that of a woman's.
There were no calluses left from practicing with a sword!
"Go!"
The cultivator stowed away the sketch, waved his hand impatiently, and stopped the next passer-by with a huff.
This time, he didn't take out the sketch for comparison.
"Thank you, thank you very much!"
Xu Mu squeezed out a smile on his face, nodded slightly like an ordinary passer-by, and quickly walked away.
Not until he was a good distance away did he suddenly duck into a nearby alley, closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and suppressed the tumultuous waves surging in his heart.
When the other party took out the sketch earlier, he had stolen a glance and seen its contents.
In the sketch was a man in his fifties, holding a crimson longsword, with a black mask on his face.
