Song Cheng climbed onto the roof, the tiles clinking under his steps. The two women practicing with knives in the courtyard couldn't help but look up at the sound and caught the scene of him releasing the sparrows.
The black band he used to cover his face and his unkempt black hair fluttered in the wind, like fierce black flames, while his complexion, pale without knowing when, made his features seem even more delicate.
The increase in Song Cheng's vitality hadn't brought about a change in his physique.
He was still lean; at most, if he took his clothes off, one would see muscles that were both compact and bursting with explosive power.
Strength, force, and form are all innate qualities, which might reflect in bodily changes, but not necessarily so.
Greater size doesn't always mean greater strength.
At least, that's what Song Cheng believed.
