Chen Nan's eyes were slightly closed, his expression calm and tranquil like still water.
He lifted his left hand slightly, his slender fingers bending and twisting in a unique rhythm, as if he were touching invisible threads of fate.
His brows furrowed slightly, a faint crease appearing between them as if he were engaged in a difficult conversation with the mysterious forces of destiny.
His lips were tightly sealed, revealing the intense focus and solemnity of the moment.
In fact, he had already seen on Hu Xingbang's face that Hu Jing was dead. The reason he wanted Hu Xingbang's hair and Hu Jing's date and time of birth was to deduce where she had been buried.
The next moment.
Chen Nan suddenly opened his eyes, a deep sense of shock in his gaze.
"Taoist priest, is my daughter still alive?" Hu Xingbang asked anxiously.
