The shadow of the osmanthus tree covered the carved railings on the corridor of the courtyard, with slivers of sunlight darting through the leaves' gaps, casting mottled spots of light on the feet of the young man stepping on the bluestone.
Under the watchful eyes of the crowd, the young man, with a face as sharp as a knife and eyes spirited and expressive, strolled out.
Due to practicing Marrow-Cleansing Skill, his originally healthy wheat-colored skin had become much whiter and even carried a youthful rosiness that only young people have, adding a hint of tenderness to his heroic and handsome face.
It really makes you realize, this truly is a dashing young man.
Zhao Rong really wanted to question the young man opposite him—why had he singled me out? What's the grudge?
But by then, it was too late.
Better to drop the act.
He walked to the center of the courtyard, exuding a serene composure, as calm as a flat lake and tranquil as the gentle breeze.
So much so that...
