Feng Jiao Xue stepped into the room, her breath hitching at the sight before her.
Her grandfather, the once, mighty Patriarch of the prestigious Feng Clan, was sitting slumped in a meditative posture at the center of the chamber
Without her realizing it, her eyes watered slightly at the sight of aging patriarch.
"Sister..." Mo Tianze reached out and kissed her tear away. "Don't cry. You shouldn't cry" When he said the last part, it wasn't in the voice of the pure youth but the deep and rich, dripping with velvety warmth with a smooth, low timbre that curls around each word like a dark promise, effortlessly commanding attention.
However, Feng Jiao Xue attention was too focused on the old patriarch, her grandfather.
He was nothing like the jolly man in her previous incarnation's memory. His form, once upright and imposing, was withered, his skin pale and almost translucent under the dim lighting of the cultivation chamber.
