Cemetery.
At a distance, a line of people came to a stop in front of Leng Zimo's mother's grave.
Just as Luo Xiaoqian had guessed, the elderly man walking at the front, barely in his fifties with grey hair but a back as straight as a sword, was none other than Leng Zimo's father, Leng Lin.
Walking by his side, a young man dressed in field combat gear bore some resemblance to Leng Zimo.
His eyebrows, however, weren't as harshly defined as Zimo's and appeared somewhat slender; his chin was also sharper than Zimo's. His temperament was worlds apart from the latter—it was clear he wore the garb of a noble, yet it somehow seemed roguish on him.
He exuded the same demonic charm as Jiao Yang, but within it lay a vast difference. If Jiao Yang's aura was like that of a fox, then this man was like a leopard—languid in appearance, yet hiding danger and explosive power underneath.
This young man was Leng Lin's second son, Leng Zimo's brother, Leng Zirui.
