In a remote deep forest.
In an artificially cleared space.
Zhao Rucheng sat on the ground, his head bowed.
If it were an acquaintance from the past in Fenglin City, they would surely find it difficult to recognize the Zhao Rucheng of now.
For his long hair was unkempt, his robe soiled and tattered, and he sat directly on the ground!
For Zhao Rucheng, who was always particular and choosy about his clothing, food, shelter, and transportation, this was simply unimaginable.
Yet there he was, sitting carelessly, indistinguishable from any common vagrant.
Uncle Deng stood in front of him, his voice still gentle, but now with a hint of questioning, "Have you really thought this through?"
"No need to think any further," Zhao Rucheng lifted his head, speaking indifferently.
His disheveled and dirty appearance could not hide his handsomeness.
But his face, no longer bearing the casual laughter of days past, was now serious, almost stern.
